MASTER 

NEGA  TIVE 

NO.  93-81173-11 


MICROFILMED  1993 
COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES/NEW  YORK 


as  part  of  the 
"Foundations  of  Western  Civilization  Preservation  Project" 


Funded  by  the 
NATIONAL  ENDOWMENT  FOR  THE  HUMANITIES 


Reproductions  may  not  be  made  without  permission  from 

Columbia  University  Library 


COPYRIGHT  STATEMENT 


The  copyright  law  of  the  United  States  -  Title  17,  United 
States  Code  -  concerns  the  making  of  photocopies  or 
other  reproductions  of  copyrighted  material. 


Under  certain  conditions  specified  in  the  law,  libraries  and 
archives  are  authorized  to  furnish  a  photocopy  or  other 
reproduction.  One  of  these  specified  conditions  is  that  the 
photocopy  or  other  reproduction  is  not  to  be  "used  for  any 
purpose  other  than  private  study,  scholarship,  or 
research."  If  a  user  makes  a  request  for,  or  later  uses,  a 
photocopy  or  reproduction  for  purposes  in  excess  of  "fair 
use,"  that  user  may  be  liable  for  copyright  infringement. 

This  institution  reserves  the  right  to  refuse  to  accept  a 
copy  order  if,  in  its  judgement,  fulfillment  of  the  order 
would  involve  violation  of  the  copyright  law. 


AUTHOR: 


WAGNER,  CHARLES 


TITLE: 


YOUTH 


PLACE: 


NEW  YORK 


DA  TE : 


1893 


Restrictions  on  Use: 


COLUNfBIA  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARIES 
PRESERVATION  DEPARTMENT 

BIBUOGR  APHIC  MimOf ORM  TARH^T 


Master  Negative  # 


Original  Material  as  Filmed  -  Existing  Bibliographic  Record 


\^T.\       Waa-nev.  Cha-rles.  185"2.-i9i8. 
W\Z  ^Y°ui^,  +Y.  Pvo-m  +he  French 

hv   EY"nes+  Redwood. 


by  f 

f7y 


ST/T^^f 


TECHNICAL  MICROFORM  DATA 
REDUCTION    RATIO:__   ///^ 


FILM     SIZE: 

IMAGE  PLACEMENT:   lA  mA;  IB    HB 

DATE     FILMED:  3  -vf-f^ INITIALS  S^ 

^'"'^DBY:    RESEARCH  PTTBUCATTONJq.TNC  WQODRRrfi^.FF^- 


/ 


^-^2. 


Q  ViiJ^.^ 


o. 


Association  for  Information  and  image  Management 

1100  Wayne  Avenue,  Suite  1100 
Silver  Spring,  Matyland  20910 

301/587-8202 


Centimeter 

1         2        3        4         5        6         7        8        9       10       11       12       13       14       15   mm 


III 


lllllllMllllllll[llM|llM|llmillllH^^ 


Inches 


T~m  I  I  II      ITT 

3  4 


1.0 

muu. 

1.4 

12.5 

I.I 

2.0 
1.8 

1.6 

1.25 

I   I   I  I  I   I   I   I   I   M   I 

5 


I 


MflNUFRCTURED   TO   PIIM   STfiNDflRDS 
BY   fiPPLIED   IMPGEt    INC. 


f 


ni.\ 


Wvi 


tS:,olnmbia  ©ulU^e 
in  the  ®itu  of  $lcw  $l<»rk 


GIVEN    BY 


Ixe.s.^eVn   Low^ 


2 


I 


I 


YOUTH 


BY 


CHARLES    WAGNER 


*      *      * 


TRANSLATED   FROM    THE   FRENCH 


BY 


ERNEST   REDWOOD 


NEW  YORK 
DODD,  MEAD   AND   COMPANY 

.1893 


Copyright,  1898^ 
By  Dodd,  Mead  and  Company. 


All  rights  restrvtd. 


TO  GRACE  KING 

The  American  edition  of  this  hook 
is   dedicated. 


\ 


i 


finflmsits  ^Ttnt 

John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.S.A. 


/  • — 


CM 


18^^385 


(I 


TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  AMERICA. 


II 


My  pen  trembles  in  my  hand  with  emotion  as  I 
write  these  lines.  They  are  going  afar,  to  unknown 
friends ;  and  I  would  have  them  speak  to  their  hearts. 
Across  the  distance  which  separates  us,  I  would  have 
them  tell  the  profound  sympathy  I  feel  for  them,  and 
for  that  glorious  country  whose  children  they  are, 

I  have  put  in  this  hook  the  difficulties,  the  douhts, 
the  vices,  the  contradictions,  of  the  youth  of  France, 
I  have  put  in  also  the  noble  griefs,  the  sufferings,  the 
ardent  thirst  of  an  elect  few  who  from  out  the  beaten 
paths  of  realism  and  amid  the  disintegration  of  an 
artificial  life  aspire  to  a  wholesome  existence,  to 
an  inner  harmony,  to  moral  grandeur,  to  the  pure 
sources  of  the  divine. 

I  have  tried  to  encourage  the  awaking  of  the 
modern  spirit,  and  from  amidst  the  darkness 
where  we  stumble,  to  point  with  my  finger  to  the 
morning  star. 

In  stigmatising  these  vices,  in  pointing  out  these 
hopes,  in  indicating  the  path  which  leads  upward  to 
the  heights,  have  I  done  but  a  local  work  ?  Has  the 
youth  of  our  old  France  nothing  in  common  with  that 
of  young  America  ?    I  cannot  think  it.     JVe  form 


-AiL^ 


VI 


TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  AMERICA. 


one  solidarity,  united  as  much  by  the  fatality  of  evil 
as  by  the  traces  of  the  higher  life  within  us.  Young 
nations,  despite  their  vitality,  their  noble  strength, 
their  overflowing  vigour,  may  none  the  less  be  touched 
by  certain  decrepitudes ;  while  above  the  moss-grown 
trunks  of  old-world  nations  there  may  grow  green  a 
branch  of  eternal  hope. 

I  have,  then,  every  reason  to  believe  that  on  both 
sides  of  the  ocean  we  have  the  same  enemies  and  the 
same  allies.     We  all  need  to  be  reminded  that  man 
does  not  live  by  bread  alone,— that  the  prosperity, 
the  knowledge,  the  developtnent  of  the  material  ener- 
gies which  are  the  glory  of  this  century,  can  end  only 
in  making  of  our  civili{ation  a  colossus  with  feet 
of  clay,  if  we  lose  faith  and  fraternity.    We  all  need 
to  be  reminded  that  intellectual  overproduction,  that 
overtaxing  the  receptive  faculties  and  the  sensibili- 
ties,  both  moral  atid  physical,  end  in  destroying 
man's  equilibrium,  in  enervating  his  will,  and  plung- 
ing individuals  and  nations  into  decadence,  despite 
all  their  culture.    All  of  us,  finally,  have  med  to 
regain  respect  for  love. 

Your  customs  are  doubtless  unlike  ours.  Your 
system  of  education  gives  you  wonderful  advantages. 
The  young  man  is  not  from  infancy  kept  apart  from 
the  young  girl,  creating  thus  for  a  lifetime  two 
fractions  of  humankind,  who  understand  one  an- 
other so  poorly,  and  thwart  one  another  so  often. 
Among  you  one  cannot  speak  lightly  of  the  worst 
sins,— against  chastity,  man's  dignity,  and  woman's 
honour.    And  yet,  for  your  youth  as  for  ours,  can 


TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  AMERICA. 


VU 


//  not  be  said  that  love  is  at  one  and  the  same 
time  its  brightest  and  its  darkest  feature?  I  have 
no  fear  of  contradiction. 

Let  those  who  may  commune  with  me  in  this  book 
look  into  their  own  conscietwes.  They  will  then 
understand  why  it  is  that  from  its  first  page  I  keep 
reiterating  that  with  all  youth  the  principal  question 
is  love.  In  it,  young  men,  is  your  ruin  or  your 
salvation. 

Respect  love  in  your  own  person  and  in  that  of 
woman.  Respect  the  sources  of  life.  All  the  lives 
to  come  are  confided  to  the  honour  of  the  youth  of  the 
present  generation.  Meditate  on  the  grandeur  of 
such  a  responsibility,  and  draw  your  own  inferences. 
They  to  whom  the  sacred  fire  is  intrusted  should  keep 
repeating.  Noblesse  oblige. 

When  I  consider  the  youth  of  our  day,  it  seems  to 
me  in  every  land  like  a  vast  sown  field.  Here,  under 
the  most  varied  forms,  are  growing  the  noxious  plants 
that  will  poison  the  future ;  here,  too,  are  growing 
the  good  wheat  and  the  healthful  herbs  destined  to 
nourish  us,  to  comfort  us,  and  to  heal  our  wounds. 

In  face  of  this  alternative,  I  cannot  refrain  from 
addressing  this  personal  question  to  every  one  whose 
eyes  shall  fall  upon  this  book:  — 

Will  you  be  of  those  who  do  evil,  or  of  those  who 
combat  it?  Will  you  be  of  those  who  destroy,  or 
of  those  who  make  whole? 

There  is  no  middle  course.  The  indifferent  are 
all  on  the  side  of  the  murderers.  To  do  nothing  is 
one  of  the  worst  ways  of  doing  evil. 


VUl 


TO  THE  YOUTH  OF  AMERICA. 


He  who  has  written  these  lines  is  not  a  man  tied 
down  to  bis  desk.    He  is  a  man  of  action,  almost  a 
soldier.    He  has  composed  this  book  like  tbe  trooper 
wbo  writes  bis  notes  between  two  battles,  on  a  gun- 
carriage  or  tbe  pommel  of  bis  saddle.    He  is  black 
witb  p<mder  and  cffvered  witb  dust ;  and  tbe  only 
thing  he  is  absolutely  sure  of  is  that  life  is  a  strife, 
and  that  victory  rests  with  God.     men  be  sees 
certain  young  men,  then,  he  feels  like  sounding  a 
clarion  to  call  them  back.    Ah  !  how  be  wishes  that 
some  among  those  of  you  wbo  read  tbis  book  may 
say:   I,  too,  wish  to  act  tbe  man  and  wear  the 

sword.  ,    ..  .        ^^^ 

Our  time  is  short.  Let  us  not  waste  it  in  words. 
Farewell  >  The  daily  struggle  calls  me.  I  leap  into 
the  saddle  and  cry  again:  God  be  with  you,  dear 
young  companions  in  arms!  May  be  make  you  joy- 
ous, loving,  brave! 

C  WAGNER. 


Paris,  Cbrtstmas,  1892. 


ANALYSIS. 


Bo0k  iFirat 


THE   INHERITANCE. 

PAOS 

I.  The  Conquests  of  the  Century.  —  Idea  and  plan  of 
the  book 13 

To  understand  the  youth  of  to-day  we  must  first  study 
the  century  which  produces  it.  Characteristic  of  the 
century:  inductive  science.    Its  aims,  its  labours,  its 

beneficial  results 15 

II.  The  Losses  of  the  Century. —The  reverse  of  the 
medal.  Science  specialized  and  materialized.  Tri- 
umph of  the  positive  sciences 21 

Negations  and  premature  conclusions.    Man  belittled .    .    22 

Consequences  of  this  state  of  things  in  philosophy,  the 
arts,  literature,  pedagogy,  social  and  international  re- 
lations   24 

III.  The  Contradictions  of  the   Century.  —  Realism  and  ^ 
the   Modern    Spirit   defined.     Their  incompatibility. 
Their  coexistence  in   the   same   minds.     The  crisis 
which  results  complicated  still  further  by  the  reac- 
tionary movement ....    32 

How  to  escape  this  crisis.  By  a  return  to  normal  think- 
ing and  normal  living,  —  that  is  to  say,  to  the  modern 
spirit.    This  must  be  the  work  of  youth.    Does  it 

realize  it  ? 38 

I 


. 


YOUTH. 


Book  ^econt), 

THE  HEIRS. 

PAGE 

L  The  World  of  You.th.  —  Youth  in  general.  Its  ten- 
dency to  overestimate  tlie  work  of  its  predecessors. 
Its  contradictions.  The  everlasting  quarrel  between 
youth  and  age ^^ 

Youth,  its  best  and  its  worst  points.  Young  life:  its 
hopes  and  its  sorrows.  They  who  suffer  from  the 
faults  of  their  elders  and  set  themselves  to  repair  them  43 
II.  Intellectual  Orientation.  —  Its  real  difficulty  results 
from  the  absence  of  general  ideas  and  the  accumulation 
of  knowledge  in  detail ^7 

Results  of  this  state  of  things.  Specialization  carried  to 
extremes.  Narrowing  of  horizons.  Uncertainty  and 
doubt  extending  to  science  itself.  We  do  not  believe 
it  as  did  our  predecessors.  Spiritual  anarchy,  scepti- 
cism, dilettantism 51 

Religious  orientation So 

Moral  Orientation.— Ruin  of  principles.  Romancers 
and  youth.    Determinism,  scepticism,  dilettanteism  in 

morality ^^ 

Weakening  of  respect  and  of  the  will 62 

IV.  The  School  of  Life.  — Books  and  study  are  one  thing; 
life  is  another.    Influence  of  life  on  the  orientation  of 

youth.    Practical  preoccupations 68 

Young  diplomats ^^ 

Utilitarians ^^ 

Passive  enjoyment  and  self-indulgence 75 

The  Useless  Class ^^ 

An  easy  life.    Play ^ 

Love  and  love  songs °^ 

The  good  side  of  the  influence  of  life.    Our  national  life 

and  our  youth ^ 

Military  service ^ 


m 


ANALYSIS.  M 

PAGE 

V.  The  Sheep  of  Panurge.  — Youth  as  a  flock  of  sheep. 
Effects  of  our  civilization  on  originality  of  thought 
and  of  life.  Fashion :  its  ruts  and  worn  roads.  Diffi- 
culties in  the  way  of  a  reaction 91 

VI.  A  Few  Words  on  Party  Spirit 96 

VIL  Health  and  Amusements.  —  Eflfects  of  an  artificial  life 

on  health  and  the  joy  of  living 101 

Vlll.  The  Youth   of  the   People.  —  Its  especial  position. 
The  sources  of  its  orientation ;   school,  the  church, 

the  workshop,  the  fields 106 

Realism  among  the   people.     Example  of  their  supe- 
riors.   There  are  always  directing  classes     ....    110 
Diminution  of  reverence.    Is  it  the  fault  of  the  modern 

spirit? 113 

Those  who  are  really  to  blame US 

Confidence  shaken.    Scepticism  among  the  people  .    .    Il6 

Alcoholism 117 

The  life  of  the  people  a  precious  treasure.  It  is  men- 
aced.    How  to  preserve  it.     By  fraternizing  with  It    .     119 

IX.  Youth  and  Reaction.  —  Aim  of  reaction.     To  save 

society  by  suppressing  three  centuries  of  history. 
Motives  for  this  undertaking.  Its  gigantic  but  de- 
ceptive character.    Criticism  of  the  attempt    ...    122 

X.  Paths  of  To-morrow.  —  Signs  of  a  new  orientation. 

Realism  and  reaction  equally  powerless  to  give  us 
life.  The  modern  spirit  trying  to  free  itself  from 
the  trammels  of  exclusive  tendencies  in  order  to  seek 
the  good  and  the  true  wherever  it  is  to  be  found. 
Forerunners  in  this  movement.  Traces  of  it  in 
national  instruction.  A  return  to  tradition  in  a  new 
spirit 134 

Fermentation  of  these  ideas  in  youth.  An  elite  which 
withdraws  from  the  current  realism.  Characteristics 
of  this  minority.  Its  broad  and  generous  point  of 
view.  Its  aspirations,  intellectual,  moral,  religious, 
and  social 142 

How  to  explain  the  origin  of  these  tendencies    ...    147 


^ 


I 


I 

I 


, 


Xll  YOUTH. 

PAGE 

Will  they  take  hold  of  the  people?  Necessity  of  a 
high  democratic  ideal  and  of  ways  to  propagate  it. 
The  office  of  youth  in  this  task 154 

The  grand  organ  of  national  education,  —  the  primary 
school 155 

Conclusion 159 

Book  E\)ixt3. 
TOWARD  THE  SOURCES  AND  THE  HEIGHTS. 

I.    Is  THE  WORLD  OLD? l63 

^  II.  Life.  How  we  must  take  it.— Life  is  a  fact,  a  result, 
and  a  hope.  It  is  our  great  affair.  It  does  not  rest 
on  arguments,  but  on  that  will  which  underlies  all 
things.  Its  worth.  We  must  take  it  simply  after  the 
fashion  of  those  beings  who  hold  to  it  with  all  the 

energy  of  unconsciousness 168 

III  The  Ideal. — Two  ways  of  loving  life.  The  baser  and 
the  higher  love.  The  grand  life,  —  the  ideal.  The 
ideal  is  not  a  fantasy.    It  is  the  living  representation 

of  the  germs  we  bear  within  us 174 

Great  scope  of  the  new  ideal 176 

IV.  Action.  —  1.  Disa'phne.  Breaking  in  or  education.  The 
end  of  discipline  is  self-mastery.  Necessity  of  disci- 
pline. Passiveness  and  activity.  Enthusiasm  and 
energy.  The  school  of  war.  The  preparation  of  the 
soldier,  and  the  cause  for  which. he  fights.  Love  of 
life:  hatred  of  its  enemies 182 

2.  IVork.  Work  is  badly  understood  and  even  despised. 
It  must  be  rehabilitated  by  honouring  and  practising 

it,  by  not  concealing  but  rather  by  showing  it  .    .    .     191 
Manual  labour.    Its  salutary  and  reparative  influence.    In 
the  fields.    Social  influence  of  manual  labour  if  carried 
on  by  the  educated  and  well-to-do  class 194 

3.  Suffering.  The  role  of  effort  and  of  suffering  in  life, 
individual  and  general.  Its  salutary  influence.  Suf- 
fering as  a  liberator 200 


ANALYSIS.  xiii 

PAGE 

4.  Meditation  and  Rest.  Difficulty  of  meditation  in  our 
feverish  world.  Fear  of  a  tete-a-tete  with  oneself. 
Meditation  salutary.  Its  role  in  all  productive  activ- 
ity.   Stop,  traveller  !    Examination  of  the  conscience.    204 

Rest  a  necessity  and  duty 212 

V.  Enjoyment.  1.  Pleasures  and  Amusements.  The  detrac- 
tors of  pleasure.  Distractions  legitimate  and  neces- 
sary. Leisure  in  human  life.  The  importance  of  it. 
We  do  not  know  how  to  amuse  ourselves  ....  216 
A  word  on  amusements  at  different  epochs  of  history. 
As  we  near  our  times,  they  take  on  a  more  sedentary 
character.  Our  pleasures  artificial  and  stimulating  .  217 
A  reform  in  progress.  The  renaissance  of  open-air 
sports,  games  of  strength  and  skill.  Walking.  In- 
vestigating our  own  country 222 

Singing,  and  its  decadence  among  youth  and  the  people. 

The  need  to  sing.    A  dream 224 

Discredit  into  which  amusements  are  fallen  through 
abuse.  War  against  this  abuse.  Rehabilitation  of 
amusements.    The  role  of  all  serious  persons  in  this 

work.     Let  us  live  for  youth 225 

2.  Joyousness.  Its  sources.  Heights  and  depths  of  the 
inner  life.  Sadness.  Its  forms  and  causes.  Persons 
tired  of  life.  Depression  which  comes  from  think- 
ing and  living  badly 228 

We    must    love    life.     Joy   of   living,  and   means  of 

acquiring  this 232 

VI.  Solidarity.  — 1.  The  Family.  It  is  the  great  school  of 
solidarity  and  the  basis  of  socitiy  par  excellence.  Its 
incalculable  importance.  Youth  and  the  family. 
Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother.  Respect  the 
first  condition  of  liberty 235 

2.  Friendship.    Friendships  of  youth,  — their  beauty, 
their  lasting  quality,  their  educational  value.    Friend- 
ships between  persons  of  ripe  age  and  youth ...    239 

3.  Lave.    Our  heedlessness  with  regard  to  it.    Youth 
reaches  its  most  critical    age  without  compass   or 


»>fi 


Xiv  YOUTH. 

PAGE 

direction.  How  youth  should  govern  itself  as  regards 
love.  Respect  for  life  and  for  itself  is  the  best  safe- 
guard and  the  best  counsellor.  We  must  have 
counterweights  against  lax  maxims.  Chastity.  The 
difficult  and  interesting  position  of  young  men  who 
observe  it.  Troubled  hours.  Moral  failures.  Never 
cease  to  call  evil  evil 244 

Woman's  sacred  place  in  the  heart  of  a  young  man. 
The  cult  of  woman 256 

Young  men  and  young  girls.  Their  separation  deplored. 
Results  of  this  separation.  A  youth  without  love  is 
like  a  morning  without  sun.    Love  and  enthusiasm  .    256 

Solidarity  of  tlesh  and  blood 259 

4.  Love  of  Country-,  and  the  Social  Role  of  Youth.  Defini- 
tion of  Country.  Initiation  into  its  genius.  The  best 
way  to  love  one's  country.  The  national  ideal  of 
France  corresponds  with  the  ideal  of  progress. 
Vanity  of  cosmopolites.  No  humanity  without 
country.  How  we  can  serve  humanity  while  attend- 
ing to  our  own  affairs 260 

The  work  of  national  concentration  must  be  attempted 
by  youth.  Social  disintegration,  divisions,  parties. 
Remedy  for  this  evil.  Young  men  must  cultivate 
those  of  different  opinions  from  their  own.  Frater- 
nizing.   Breaking  down  social  barriers 265 

We  must  live  the  life  of  the  lowly  to  learn  justice  and 
suffering 270 

5.  A  Word  on  the  Intertiational  Rdle  of  Youth      .     .     .     272 
VII.  Belief.  —  Why  we  speak  of  it  last  and  not  first.    Belief 

dogmatic  and  free.  Submission  and  conviction. 
The  Gospel  and  Belief.  To  believe,  we  must  begin 
by  being  men.  Belief  is  born  of  life  and  experience. 
The  religious  sense.  Respect  and  piety  the  indis- 
pensable conditions  of  belief 277 

The  reconstruction  of  belief  through  piety  toward  the 
past  and  toward  the  present.  Historic  theology  and 
the  place  of  honour  which  belongs  to  it.  The  gospel 
in  sympathy  with  the  conscience  of  to-day ....    282 


ANALYSIS.  XV 

PAGE 

The  forgotten  gospel.  The  gospel  of  Jesus  and  the 
modern  spirit.  The  gospel  nearer  us  than  we  think. 
Why  ?  God  human,  and  humanity  divine.  The  sim- 
plicity and  boldness  of  the  gospel.  The  gospel  and 
the  weak.    Trust  and  self-sacrifice 282 

The  gospel  and  youth.  The  gospel  and  all  those  who 
try  to  practise  an  upright  life 286 

Independence  of  belief.  We  must  love  the  poverty  of 
it  and  distrust  every  human  yoke 288 

The  bond  of  religious  brotherhood  and  attachment  to 
special  traditions.  Their  necessity.  Watch  against 
the  exclusive  spirit.  The  smaller  churches  are  good 
only  as  they  prepare  for  the  Church  universal.  The 
higher  regions  of  belief.  Our  Father  who  art  in 
heaven 288 

Conclusion 290 


i 


i 


I 


Book  First. 


INHERITANCE, 


What  shall  it  profit  a  man  if  he  gain 
the  whole  world  and  lose  his  own  soul  ? 

Jesus. 

There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and 
earth,  Horatio,  than  are  dreamt  of  in  your 
philosophy.  —  Shakespeare. 


ii 


i 


f    t  ■■ 


YOUTH. 


25ooft   fxc^t. 


4P 


til 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  CONQUESTS  OF  THE  CENTURY. 

WE  often  see,  toward  the  end  of  winter,  the  gardener 
full  of  anxious  care  walking  among  his  espaliers 
and  trellises.  He  notes  the  condition  of  the  buds  and 
the  wood,  and  with  a  careful  eye  examines  the  mys- 
terious coverings  which  the  sap  of  spring  will  soon 
swell  and  burst.  These  walks,  where  anxiety  is  always 
mingled  with  hope,  suggest  to  me  by  analogy  another 
walk,  more  disquieting  still  and  more  interesting,— 
that  which  the  thinker  preoccupied  with  the  future  may 
take  among  youth.  There,  also,  sleeps,  veiled  and  yet 
apparent  beneath  the  veil  that  covers  it,  the  great  ques- 
tion of  to-morrow.  It  germinates  and  grows  in  the 
heart  of  youth ;  it  sets  in  ferment  in  their  brain  things 
more  significant  than  those  which  the  gardener  tries  to 
discover  under  the  covering  of  his  buds. 

Always  interesting  and  always  worthy  of  the  most 
sympathetic  attention,  youth  should  especially  attract 


I! 


i4 


YOUTH. 


r 


in  1  "  f"^^'  *'''"  "''"«^"  ^""<'""«  themselves 
m  the  mental  attitude.  Does  it  not  seem  that  this 
should  be  _the  case  at  the  end  of  the  present  eel  J^ 
Doubtless  It  ,s  a  vulgar  error  to  confound  periods  of 
siorcarJ?";  ""'  ^'.^  """^^^^  chronological  dl^! 
a  v™.th   n.       T^-    ^°  ^^'  '='"*""^  are  attributed 

Sn       Nnf'h"       "f:.^'  '^''''  "'  '^'^^  dawn  and 
dechne.    Nothing  is  further  from  the  truth.    Powerful 

movements  have  marked  the  end  of  some  centuries 

e^  oT,n  t       '  '"':^  "*  '  coincidence  between  the 
end  of  an  historic  period  and  the  end  of  a  centurv 
Such  I  believe  to  be  the  case  at  present.    We  haT^^" 

hind  us  a  vast  development,  wherein  can  be  noterafe 
tiie  en thu3  ^f  ^^^^^  ^^^  ^^^  ted,  after 

brdhant  manhood,  the  hesitations  and  signs  of  iL 
ude  common  to  old  age.     But  as  huS/ eSs" 

L  thrr''^; "!"  '^  "'^^ '--  't^  -  n 

maximumTr    ""!'".  '"  ^"'"^  ''^^^  ''^^'^hed  the 
maximum  of  decrepitude  that  new  things  come  to 

bJb^Vriu^''f,  *'  "<=  P^'"^  ^''^""gh  should 

more  insistence  to  those  entering  on  life  than  to  thn<^ 

evident    Nothing  is  more  natural,  therefore  than  to 
^^o.  thoughts  to  ,outh,  both  ^in  its  'il^'Jj 

wol!j;hS"it?±i'    "o^:^fttakeitspIaceinthe 
world  which  Its  predecessors  have  bequeathed  it  ?  What 


THE  CONQUESTS  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


IS 


are  its  perils,  its  hopes,  its  pressing  duties  ?  Truly,  here 
is  what  may  excite  the  most  legitimate  curiosity. 

That  we  may  see  clearly  into  these  various  questions, 
it  is  necessary  first  to  take  a  sort  of  inventory,  and  to 
characterize  briefly  the  inheritance  which  falls  to  our 
youth ;  then  to  try  to  understand  this  youth  itself,  and 
some  of  the  modes  of  thought  that  distinguish  it.  We 
will  try,  after  that,  to  trace  such  an  ideal  scheme  of  life 
as  shall  inspire  the  flower  of  our  youth  for  the  grand 
mission  imposed  upon  them,— to  avail  themselves  of 
the  good  the  departing  century  leaves  them,  while 
striving  to  fill  up  its  gaps  and  rectify  its  errors. 

It  is  always  very  difficult  to  unify  and  group  under  a 
single  point  of  view  the  greatly  divergent  elements  of 
human  activity.  But,  in  general,  the  salient  point  of  a 
century  is  not  hard  to  discover,  for  it  is  that  character- 
istic  which  determines  its  physiognomy,  its  tendencies, 
its  beauties,  and  its  defects.  If  it  were  designated  by  a 
title,  indelibly  and  peculiarly  its  own,  the  period  which 
we  are  leaving  could  not  be  called  otherwise  than  the 
age  of  inductive  science.  Knowledge  has  come  little  by 
little,  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  creation  of  man, 
to  be  the  directing  power.  Though  this  may  appear 
evident,  it  is  not  superfluous  to  aflirm  it,  because  of  the 
superficial  idea  which  is  often  held  of  the  grand  work 
of  man  and  of  that  which  it  is  the  fashion  to  call  pro- 
gress. Humanity  is  commonly  represented  as  marching 
along  a  route  where  each  generation  marks  its  stage. 
There  is  thus,  except  for  the  difference  of  pace,  constant 
advance  along  the  whole  line.  This  conception  is  false 
and  dangerous.    Not  only  are  there,  in  the  advance  of 


14 


YOUTH. 


• 


it 


ill 


us  at  critical  epochs  when  changes  announce  themselves 
in  the  mental  attitude.     Does  it  not  seem  that  this 
should  be  the  case  at  the  end  of  the  present  century  > 
Doubtless  it  is  a  vulgar  error  to  confound  periods  of 
human  evolution  with  the  arbitrary  chronological  divi- 
sions  called  centuries.     To  the  centuries  are  attributed 
a  youth  and  an  old  age ;  one  speaks  of  their  dawn  and 
decline.    Nothing  is  further  from  the  truth.     Powerful 
movements  have  marked  the  end  of  some  centuries ; 
others  have  begun  in  decay  and  senility.     It  is  none  the 
less  true  that  there  may  be  a  coincidence  between  the 
end  of  an  historic  period  and  the  end  of  a  century. 
Such  I  believe  to  be  the  case  at  present.    We  have  be- 
hind  us  a  vast  development,  wherein  can  be  noted,  after 
the  enthusiasms  of  youth  and  the  virile  efforts  of  a 
brilliant  manhood,  the  hesitations  and  signs  of  lassi- 
tude common  to  old  age.     But  as  humanity  renews 
Itself  unceasingly,  and  is  reborn  from    its  ashes,  it 
IS  at  the  moment  when  old  things  have  reached  the 
maximum  of  decrepitude  that  new  things  come  to 

That  a  time  like  this  we  are  passing  through  should 

1,^  ""tk  /iu  P''"'"'"''  °^  ^^'  future,  no  one  can 
doubt.  That  these  problems  present  themselves  with 
more  insistence  to  those  entering  on  life  than  to  those 
already  engaged  in  its  affaire  or  about  to  leave  it  is 
evident.  Nothing  is  more  natural,  therefore,  than '  to 
turn  our  thoughts  to  youth,  both  in  its  interest  and 
our  own. 

wn^i^'VI".^^  "^'i    "'^  ^"^  **  ^'^'  '^^  P^^^^  i"  the 
world  which  its  predecessors  have  bequeathed  it  ?  What 


THE  CONQUESTS  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


15 


are  its  perils,  its  hopes,  its  pressing  duties  ?  Truly,  here 
is  what  may  excite  the  most  legitimate  curiosity. 

That  we  may  see  clearly  into  these  various  questions, 
it  is  necessary  first  to  take  a  sort  of  inventory,  and  to 
characterize  briefly  the  inheritance  which  falls  to  our 
youth ;  then  to  try  to  understand  this  youth  itself,  and 
some  of  the  modes  of  thought  that  distinguish  it.  We 
will  try,  after  that,  to  trace  such  an  ideal  scheme  of  life 
as  shall  inspire  the  flower  of  our  youth  for  the  grand 
mission  imposed  upon  them,  —  to  avail  themselves  of 
the  good  the  departing  century  leaves  them,  while 
striving  to  fill  up  its  gaps  and  rectify  its  errors. 

It  is  always  very  difficult  to  unify  and  group  under  a 
single  point  of  view  the  greatly  divergent  elements  of 
human  activity.  But,  in  general,  the  salient  point  of  a 
century  is  not  hard  to  discover,  for  it  is  that  character- 
istic which  determines  its  physiognomy,  its  tendencies, 
its  beauties,  and  its  defects.  If  it  were  designated  by  a 
title,  indelibly  and  peculiarly  its  own,  the  period  which 
we  are  leaving  could  not  be  called  otherwise  than  the 
age  of  inductive  science.  Knowledge  has  come  little  by 
little,  and  for  the  first  time  since  the  creation  of  man, 
to  be  the  directing  power.  Though  this  may  appear 
evident,  it  is  not  superfluous  to  aflirm  it,  because  of  the 
superficial  idea  which  is  often  held  of  the  grand  work 
of  man  and  of  that  which  it  is  the  fashion  to  call  pro- 
gress. Humanity  is  commonly  represented  as  marching 
along  a  route  where  each  generation  marks  its  stage. 
There  is  thus,  except  for  the  difference  of  pace,  constant 
advance  along  the  whole  line.  This  conception  is  false 
and  dangerous.    Not  only  are  there,  in  the  advance  of 


16 


YOUTH. 


I 


society,  long  halts  and  retrograde  movements,  but  essen- 
tial changes  of  direction.    The  ideal  of  certain  epochs 
is  perchance  at  others  neglected  and  even  trampled 
under  foot ;  and  often  these  two  epochs  work  together 
each  after  its  own  fashion,  for  the  accomplishment  of 
historical  ends.     There  are  periods  of  creation  and 
periods  of  destruction ;  there  are  periods  which  are 
devoted  to  analysis  and  working  in  detail,  others  which 
are  synthetical.    These  seem  asleep ;  those  are  as  im- 
petuous as  a  torrent.     Certain  centuries  are  religious 
poetic,  artistic ;  others  commercial,  industrial,  warlike! 
They  are  also  effeminate  and  dissolute,  as  they  are 
energetic  and  virtuous.     And  all  bring  on  the  scene 
their  especial  characters;  chosen  sons,  made  in  their 
image,  and  pass  on  in  their  turn  honour  and  power  to 
dreamers,  diplomats,  orators,  the  rash,  the  wise,  fools, 
favourites,  courtiers.     But  human  evolution  is  so  vast 
and  so  complicated  that  it  never  takes  in  everything  at 
a  time.     It  advances  by  successive  moves  in  directions 
the  most  varied.     Notwithstanding  the  wealth  of  its 
aspirations  or  its  struggles  to  embrace  all,  each  period 
of  activity  makes  only  its  particular  advance,  to  which 
everything  is  subordinated,  one  might  even  say  sacri- 
ficed.    It  thus  proves  a  kind  of  polarization  of  the 
entire  work  of  humanity  about  a  chosen  centre.    In 
the  particular  sphere  which  it  delights  to  cultivate,  a 
century  surpasses,  as  a  rule,  those  preceding  it.    But 
this  does  not  imply  that   it  surpasses  or  even  equals 
them  in  other  respects.    On  the  contrary,  the  advan- 
tage  which  it  gains  by  concentrating  all  its  energies  in 
one  direction  is  offset  by  a  loss  in  other  departments 


THE  CONQUESTS  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


17 


Centuries,  like  individuals,  have  the  defect  of  their 
qualities.     There  is  here  a   general    law  which   we 
must  remember.    Thanks  to  it,  we  understand  better 
how,  for  example,  the  ancients,  who  were  our  masters 
in  so  many  things,  were  only  children  in  science  com- 
pared to  us.    And  the  same  law  will  explain  to  us,  in- 
versely, certain  lamentable  gaps  in  existing  civilization. 
We,  then,  have  made  our  advance  in  the  direction  of 
inductive  science,  not  through  mere  fantasy,  but  driven 
by  necessity.    Under  the  slow  wear  of  time  old  bases 
of  society  and  antique  creeds  have  decayed  and  fallen 
apart.    It  was  imperative  to  strengthen  them  by  grasp- 
ing firmly  the  facts  and  ideas  which  entered  into  the 
building  of  this  venerable  edifice.    That  could  only  be 
done  by  going  back  over  the  humble  path  of  experi- 
ence.   With  a  patience  proof  against  all  toil,  man  sub- 
mitted  and  set  himself  to  review  the  world  in  minute 
detail.    Small  and  feeble  in  the  face  of  a  giant  creation, 
ephemeral  in  the  face  of  time  without  limit,  he  has 
not  been  rebuffed  by  the  mediocrity  of  his  methods 
nor  the  extent  of  the  task.    Simply,  courageously, 
using  his  eyes  to  see,  his  fingers  to  touch,  his  heart  to 
decide,  he  has  set  himself  to  the  work.    For  he  has 
found  that  the  method  which  consists  of  deducing 
one  fact  from  another,  advancing  from  that  which  is  near 
and  known  to  that  which  is  distant  and  unknown,  is 
the  most  marvellous  of  discoveries.    He  could  review 
through  it,  with  tiny  steps  but  sure,  the  most  prodigious 
distances.    Workers  succeeded  one  another  in  their 
task,  often  obscure,  where  even  to  begin  was  to  under- 
go a  thousand  privations.    But  when  one  dropped. 


18 


YOUTH. 


another  fell  into  step.  How  many  labours  have  been 
forgotten,  how  many  discoveries  ignored !  Never  has 
humanity  appeared  more  admirable  than  on  this  steep 
road,  where  we  see  it  advance  wearied,  wounded,  but 
not  rebuffed,  holding  in  its  hand  the  thread  of  gold 
which  can  guide  it  through  the  shadows  to  the  dawn 
of  truth. 

Thanks  to  these  enormous  labours,  we  possess  ad- 
vantages which  cannot  be  enuqjerated  without  emotion 
and  thankfulness. 

Astronomers  have  laid  bare  the  immensity  of  the 
universe,  and  brought  within  our  reach  facts  whose 
grandeur  surpasses  even  the  imagination.  Geographers 
and  explorers  have  made  us  know  the  globe  we  in- 
habit. Geologists  have  told  us  that  it  was  born  in  fire, 
in  ages  far  distant.  The  natural  sciences  have  begun 
to  instruct  us  in  the  numberless  forms  which  life  as- 
sumes  in  the  vegetable  and  animal  world,  and  have  re- 
vealed to  us  an  infinity  more  wonderful  than  that 
which  astronomers  have  shown,— the  infinity  of  small 
things.  Physicians  and  physiologists  have  penetrated 
far  in  the  delicate  and  difficult  investigation  of  the  hu- 
man body,  in  order  to  teach  us  to  know  ourselves  and 
to  fight  more  effectively  against  suffering  and  disease. 
The  mechanical  arts  and  chemistry  have  accelerated 
intercourse,  reduced  distances,  swelled  a  hundredfold 
industrial  production,  and  increased  the  general  welfare. 
Electricity,  too,  that  last  ally,  which  keeps  its  secret 
and  serves  us  without  our  knowing  why,  has  made 
an  advance  which  seems  to  belong  to  the  realm  of  the 
impossible. 


THE  CONQUESTS  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


19 


Meanwhile  historians  have  brought  back  the  past, 
with  a  tireless  activity,  piece  by  piece,  often  forgetting 
to  live  in  the  present  in  order  to  bury  themselves  in  the 
archives,  the  catacombs,  the  exhumed  ruins  of  other 
days.    They  havft  set  in  their  true  light,  and  replaced 
in  their  historic  frames  the  legends  and  the  religious 
traditions  of  the  fathers.    They  have  corrected  secular 
errors,  avenged  the  martyrs,  rehabilitated  noble  memo- 
ries, scourged  crimes,  and  above  all  set  in  their  high 
and  deserved  place  the  weak  and  small,  whose  suffer- 
ings  and  rude  labours  have  been  too  long  neglected  in 
favour  of  the  wars  and  intrigues  of  the  mighty  of  the 
earth ;  — great  services,  too   long  to  enumerate,  but 
which  every  one  can  recall. 

If  we  could  bring  back  to  us  a  man  of  the  genera- 
tions that  have  disappeared  and  take  him  among  the 
marvels  which  our  age  owes  to  science,  he  would  go 
from  astonishment  to  astonishment,  and  would  surely 
say  to  us :   It  was  thus  that  we  dreamed  the  age  of 
gold.    There  is  no  question  that  the  man  of  the  present 
must  find  himself  happier  than  he  of  old,  and  become 
better  and  more  the  master  of  himself.    Knowing  bet- 
ter the  laws  of  Nature,  he  can  conform  his  life  to  them. 
The  diseases  of  yore  are  unknown  to  him,  as  well  as 
its  poverty  and  misery.    He  rules  serenely  over  docile 
forces.    That  which  would  of  old  have  destroyed  him, 
to-day  is  his  bondman.    Fire  is  harnessed  to  his  chariot, 
the  lightning  is  his  messenger.    How  this  royalty  should 
ennoble  him!     At  the  same  time  the  history  of  the 
human  race  has  given  him  great  lessons  in  wisdom,  in 
tolerance,  in  clemency.    Among  nations  there  should  be 


4 


'IFIF 


^naw 


20 


YOUTH. 


good  will.  Justice  should  govern  individuals  and  socie- 
ties. Brought  up  from  their  youth  in  the  belief  of  their 
high  station,  men  should  cause  peace  and  fraternity  to 
flourish  on  the  earth  which  their  ancestors  soaked  with 
blood.     Happy  the  youth  inheritors  oi  such  a  world ! 

And  this  ancient  would  reason  rightly.  Why  should 
facts  contradict  conclusions  so  natural  ?  Here  we  are 
led  to  consider  the  reverse  of  the  medal,  or  what  the 
language  of  the  law  would  call  the  inheritance  tax. 


T 


THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


21 


CHAPTER  11. 

THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 

T   ET  us  recall  the  law  of  which  we  have  spoken. 
L    Humanity  does  not  go  forward  equally  m  all 
directions,  but  by  leaps.    In  throwing  herself  so  ar- 
dently  in  the  direction  of  science,  she  has  necessarily 
lost  sight  of  other  domains.     Great  territories,  which 
are  integral  parts  of  man's  patrimony,  have^been  un- 
consciously  neglected.    Further,  science  itself  has  felt 
the  reflex  action  of  the  law  which  raised  it  to  the  first 
rank     Too  vast  to  be  studied  in  all  its  ramifications,  it 
has  developed  in  certain  branches  in   preference    to 
others,  and  even  to  their  exclusion.    We  see  in  the 
same  way,  often,  one  or  more  branches  of  a  tree  absorb 
nearly  all  the  sap  of  the  trunk,  and  leave  to  the  others 
only  a  diminished  sustenance.    It  was  inevitable  that 
in  the  gigantic  undertaking  of  mastering  the  world  m 
its  smallest  detail  and  sifting  its  facts  and  ideas,  the 
elemental  bases  of  all  things  must  first  be  studied.    The 
mechanical  sciences  and  mathematics,  the  entire  group 
of  natural  sciences,  would  naturally  develop  first.     But 
as  whenever  we  try  to  fathom  the  universe  we  come 
face  to  face  with  the  infinite,  so  the  sciences,  at  the  outset 
so  great  in  extent,  soon  seemed  the  whole  of  the  world. 
After  a  time  neither  the  strength  nor  the  lifetime  of 


!  m 


\ 


YOUTH. 


investigators  sufficed  to  consider  them  all.  Each  man, 
then,  in  this  limitless  field  where  the  roads  branch  off 
unceasingly,  entered  on  a  single  pathway.  Investigators 
scattered,  and  more  and  more  lost  sight  of  one  another. 
At  the  same  time  they  all,  as  a  consequence  of  living 
among  elementary  principles,  ended  by  declaring  as 
facts  only  tangible  facts,  and  by  giving  the  name  of 
science  to  that  which  they  call,  by  a  title  as  false  as 
significant,  the  positive  sciences. 

During  all  this,  humanity  continued  to  live  and  to 
need  sustenance.  She  had  followed  these  hardy  pio- 
neers of  the  remade  world  in  their  advance,  and  was, 
without  suspecting  it,  far  from  her  base  of  supplies. 
She  had  abandoned  her  old  house  before  her  new  one 
was  prepared.  It  was  then  that  the  consciousness  of  the 
brevity  of  life,  the  longing  for  something  assured,  and 
the  need  of  interpreting  life,  gave  birth  prematurely  to 
a  philosophy  which,  seizing  the  actual  results  of  scien- 
tific work,  flattered  itself  that  it  could  reconstruct  with 
their  aid  the  world  and  humanity,  while  deliberately 
ignoring  all  the  accumulated  wisdom  and  faith  of  the 
past.  Alas !  the  materials  for  this  reconstruction,  mar- 
vellous when  we  consider  the  labours  of  those  who 
collected  them,  were  none  the  less  nearly  useless  in 
building  a  world.  Could  one  explain  the  whole  of 
life  with  what  hardly  sufficed  to  explain  a  grain 
of  sand  or  a  blade  of  grass  ?  Rashest  of  all  attempts ! 
But  the  bold  are  always  right,  at  least  for  a  time.  That 
time  is  passing  to-day.  We  see  that  we  have  been  too 
much  in  haste.  After  having  begun  to  practise  the 
inductive  method,  we  have  abandoned  it ;  we  have  also 


THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


23 


abandoned  tradition,  in  which  there  is  so  much  really 
worthy  of  preservation;  and  we  have  made  a  pro- 
digious leap  into  hypothesis,  establishing  conclusions 
which  should  have  been  reserved  for  the  far-oflf  future. 
In  .a  word,  we  have  thrown  away  our  old  bread  to 
make  new  while  the  wheat  is  yet  in  the  blade. 

In  thus  reducing  the  real  to  its  known  proportions 
we  have  impoverished  ourselves,  and,  what  is  truly 
remarkable,  after  having  seen  so  many  things  of  which 
our  fathers  were  ignorant,  we  have  narrowed  our  hori- 
zon. Man  is  belittled  in  his  own  eyes.  This  is  the 
great,  the  negative  result  of  the  scientific  development 
we  have  sketched. 

But  let  us  avoid  being  misunderstood.  We  are  not 
of  those  who  accuse  certain  men  for  the  turn  things 
have  taken.  No  one  can  direct  the  life  of  society  in 
its  entirety.  Each  of  us  works  in  his  own  sphere ;  the 
sum  total  does  not  depend  on  his  will.  We  can  only 
be  expected  to  do  what  seems  to  us  right.  If  the  result 
does  not  answer  expectation,  it  is  not  our  affair.  We 
accuse  no  one,  then.  Nevertheless,  it  is  always  use- 
ful to  verify  a  fact  and  try  to  understand  the  situation, 
that  we  may  draw  lessons  for  the  future.  Still  less 
do  we  accuse  science.  That  would  be  folly  and  ingrati- 
tude. We  desire  only  that  science  shall  from  day  to 
day  consider  all  facts  worthy  of  respect,  that  it  shall 
regain  its  equipoise  and  restore  to  spiritual  realities  the 
attention  they  deserve.  We  remember,  too,  that  in 
the  movement  of  science  toward  materialism,  those 
who  have  gone  the  fastest  have  not  been  scholars. 
Many  of  them  have  carefully  refrained  from  acced- 


24 


YOUTH. 


ing  to  what  may  be  called  the  scientific  superstition. 
But  if  they  have  been  reserved,  others  have  spoken 
in  their  name.  There  are  philosophers  and  writers 
who  speculate  with  scientific  data  assumed  en  bloc,  as 
one  speculates  with  stocks  on  the  bourse. 

The  belittling  of  man  in  his  own  eyes  necessarily 
appears  in  all  provinces  of  existence,  betraying  itself  by 
a  weakening  of  the  spiritual  life.  By  a  sort  of  fatality, 
doctrines  based  on  scientific  materialism  have  invaded  the 
arts  and  literature,  and  have  spread  from  there  into 
daily  life,  creating  a  lower  materialism  in  which  we 
seem  engulfed  at  this  end  of  the  century.  Egoism,  in 
painful  contradistinction,  has  profited  most  largely  from 
the  scientific  conquests  which  sacrifice  and  devotion 
have  won.  In  its  hands  they  have  swerved  from  their 
original  purpose,  and  many  have  done  more  harm  than 
good. 

In  pedagogy  there  are  these  other  results,  —  utilita- 
rian instruction,  which  is  the  breaking  to  harness  of  the 
bread-winner;  and  intellectualism,  which  places  the 
centre  of  gravity  of  life  in  the  domain  of  knowledge, 
as  if  that  were  all  of  man.  Instruction  has  been  con- 
sidered a  sufficient  means  of  morality,  and  made  unduly 
prominent  at  the  expense  of  the  development  of  char- 
acter as  well  as  discipline  and  physical  health. 

If  the  world  of  thought  and  feeling  is  cramped  by 
abnormal  scientific  realism,  it  would  seem,  on  the 
other  hand,  that  the  material  world  should  have  gained 
largely.  There  are,  in  fact,  few  scientific  discoveries 
which  have  not  been  utilized  for  industrial  purposes. 
And  it  is  true  that  material  good  has  greatly  increased. 


i:. 


THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


25 


We  are,  as  a  general  thing,  better  nourished,  better 
lighted,  better  warmed,  better  and  more  quickly  taught 
and  transported,  better  cared  for  when  we  fall  ill,  better 
armed.  Unhappily,  there  is  a  reverse  to  the  medal. 
One  of  the  darkest  clouds  of  the  times  actually  results 
from  this  very  industrial  progress.  The  methods  of 
production,  capital,  and  machinery  have  become  so 
vast  that  they  are  beyond  calculation  and  direction. 
Social  results,  completely  unforeseen,  often  appear.  In- 
dustrialism rises  before  us  with  all  its  consequences,  — 
industrialism,  which  crushes  man  beneath  the  machine, 
labour  beneath  capital,  and  which  has  become  a  source 
of  suffering  and  hate  as  much  through  the  physical 
and  moral  wretchedness  of  the  labouring  classes  as 
through  the  uncertainty  and  excitement  into  which  it 
has  thrown  commerce  and  manufactures. 

Extreme  centralization,  which  is  another  consequence 
of  industrial  and  scientific  development,  has  given  us 
our  monster  cities,  centres  of  artificial  life,  where  is  de- 
veloped on  the  one  hand  pauperism,  and  on  the  other 
undue  luxury,  —dangerous  neighbours,  whose  proximity 
is  rendered  more  baleful  by  the  pursuit  of  facile  pleasures, 
and  the  creation  of  a  crowd  of  artificial  needs.  All 
these  causes  taken  together  have  undermined  the  public 

health. 

In  the  field  of  international  relations  the  struggle  for 
existence,  dowered  by  science  with  wonderfully  perfect 
methods,  has  engendered  militarism,  an  evil  worse  than 
war  itself.  One  might  define  militarism  as  the  scienti- 
fic solution  of  the  following  problem :  Given  a  union 
of  all  the  forces  of  humanity,  and  all  knowledge,  as 


I 


I 

/I 


26 


YOUTH. 


well  as  the  fullest  national  resources,  to  find  a  method 
to  neutralize  them,  and  even  to  extract  from  them  all 
the  evil  possible. 

Our  means  of  locomotion  seem  at  the  moment  to 
serve  less  to  draw  nations  together  than  to  accentuate 
rivalries.  The  very  accumulation  of  riches  and  indus- 
trial power  has  divided  man  from  man,  and  increased 
the  sharpness  of  competition  and  social  distances ;  the 
very  perfection  of  the  implements  of  war  has  made  na- 
tions more  distrustful.  Their  intercourse  is  rather  that 
of  inspection,  suspicion,  and  injury,  than  a  desire  to 
know  one  another  better,  and  to  come  together  on  the 
common  ground  of  human  interest. 

The  impression  which  we  wish  to  create  seems 
sufficiently  prefaced  by  these  consfderations.  Does 
it  not  seem,  looking  at  our  civiliiation  in  a  certain 
light,  that  a  wicked  genius  has  turned  to  evil 
all  the  new  forces  with  which  science  has  enriched 
mankind  ? 

How  has  this  come  about  ?  Can  the  scientific  method 
be  a  bad  one  ?  Have  we  gone  astray  in  desiring  to 
base  life  on  experience  instead  of  continuing  to  live  in 
the  old  world  of  authority  and  dogma  ?  Not  in  the 
least.  Our  error  has  been  in  believing  that  knowledge 
and  bread  are  sufficient  for  humanity,  and  allowing 
ourselves  to  slip  from  the  scientific  realism  which  in- 
cludes man  in  the  so-called  positive  knowledge,  to  a 
material  realism  which  believes  that  to  be  fed,  clothed, 
and  housed  is  the  sum  of  existence. 

The  best  things  can  become  injurious  when  they  out- 
step their  limits.    Let  us  go  somewhat  into  detail  to 


THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


27 


I 


explain  ourselves  better,  for  this  is  the  key  to  the 

situation. 

Every  one  knows  that  there  have  been  at  certain  his- 
torical epochs  exclusive  powers,  which  have  arrogated 
the  right  to  direct  and  fashion  humanity  according  to 
their  own  needs  and  often  their  own  caprices.     At  one 
time  it  was  religion,  which,  outstepping  the  bounds  of 
its  legitimate  influence,  made  the  arts,  sciences,  govern- 
ment, spring  from  itself.     Now  it  is  financial  or  mer- 
cantile  power  which  seizes  on  society  and  reduces  all 
human  interests  to  a  question  of  money.    Again  it  is  the 
military  power  which  dictates,  to  the  extent  of  driving 
into  the  background  whatever  weighs  nothing  in  the 
balance  against  physical  force.    All  these  powers,  legiti- 
mate in  themselves  because  they  represent  a  portion  of 
human  interest,  are  public  evils  when  they  become  ex- 
elusive.    Intended  to  serve  the  general  good,  they  are 
its  worst  enemies.    Each  of  them  becomes  a  formida- 
ble organization,  under  which  a  monstrous  collective 
egoism  hides  and  defends  itself,  —  an  egoism  in  compari- 
son with  which  that  of  the  individual  is  as  nothing. 
Such  is  the  egoism  of  great  institutions,  of  corporations, 
of  castes  and  classes,  of  all  clericalisms,  and  all  the  in- 
dividual  isms.     We  recognize  in  them  actual  combina- 
tions of  individual  interests  which  degenerate  into  at-  • 
tempts  against  society  and  end  in  paralyzing  life  about 
them.    You  remember  the  scribe  at  the  time  of  Christ, 
the  priest  in  the  confessional  at  another  epoch,  and  even 
according  to  their  places  and   times  the  sophist  of 
Athens,  doctors,  astrologers,  men  of  the  law,  of  war, 
and  usurers.    At  certain  periods  of  history  it  seems 


-r 


m 


28 


YOUTH. 


as  if  the  earth  had  been  created  for  the  especial  behoof 
of  one  or  other  of  these  personages,  and  the  institutions 
they  represent.  They  became  the  tyrants  of  mankind, 
its  very  shadow.  Without  them  one  could  neither  ad- 
vance nor  stop,  live  nor  die.  Everything  belonged  to 
them.  Humanity  was  their  possession,  their  sacrificial 
victim.  Yet  the  starting-point  of  these  tyrannical  atro- 
cities can  always  be  traced  to  some  original  service  to 
humanity.  Why  the  decadence  that  has  made  them 
later  on  the  very  worst  caricatures  of  what  they  were  at 
first  ?  It  is  for  this  reason  :  They  have  sinned  against 
the  grand  law  which  defines  absolutely  the  limit  of  every 
human  institution,  —  to  serve,  not  enthrall,  humanity. 

1  fear  that  this  law  has  been  seriously  infringed  as 
respects  science.  In  fact,  what  do  we  now  see  ?  The 
continuation  of  that  admirable  work  which  ought  one 
day  to  represent  the  honest  investigation  by  man  of  his 
impedimenta  of  facts  and  ideas?  That  investigation 
doubtless  continues,  and  no  power  can  stop  it.  No; 
what  we  do  see  is  the  pretence  of  certain  sciences  to 
represent  in  themselves  all  human  knowledge.  And  as 
outside  of  knowledge  there  is  no  longer  in  the  eyes  of 
science  thus  curtailed  any  means  for  man  to  come  in 
contact  with  the  realities,  we  see  the  pretence  advanced 
by  some  that  all  reality  and  all  life  should  be  reduced 
to  that  which  they  have  verified.  Outside  of  this  (and 
vast  as  it  is,  God  knows  how  wretched  is  the  domain 
compared  with  the  infinite  riches  of  life),  there  are  only 
dreams  and  illusions.  This  is  indeed  too  much  !  It  is 
no  longer  science,  but  scientific  absolutism. 

There  would  be  no  occasion  to  disturb  ourselves  if 


THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


29 


this  pretence  had  not  found  a  tremendous  echo  in  the 
world.  Let  us  quote  the  words  of  men  of  authority, 
that  we  may  not  be  accused  of  exaggeration. 

In  a  treatise  which  has  had  the  widest  circulation, 
Culturgeschichte  und  Naturwissenscbafty  the  Berlin 
professor  Du  Bois-Reymond  said  in  1877,  and  his  words 
express  the  sentiment  of  a  host  of  serious  people  who 
are  imbued  with  the  same  prejudice :  ''  The  history  of 
the  natural  sciences  is  the  veritable  history  of  mankind. 
What  has  been  thus  called  until  now  is  only  a  history 
of  wars  on  the  one  hand,  and  the  foolish  conceptions  of 
some  civilized  people  on  the  other."     From  a  man  who 
more  than  any  other  has  established  and  avowed  the  lim- 
itations of  human  knowledge,  and  who  besides  con- 
siders that  commerce  with  classical  antiquity  is  the  only 
way  to  save  us  from  a  flat  utilitarianism,  such  a  state- 
ment is  most  significant.     It  is,  moreover,  a  symptom. 
Already  they  no  longer  say :  Science  and  philosophy 
ought  to  suffice  for  humanity.     Philosophy  has  gone 
into  the  rubbish  heap  with  religion  and  poetry.    They 
say  science  oqght  to  suffice  for  humanity.   And  leaping, 
in  one  gigantic  bound  beyond  the  position,  already  far 
enough  advanced,  of  the  German  savant,  one  of  our 
contemporary  French  scholars  has  left  us  six  words, 
which  will  be  to  future  generations  evidence  of  the 
state  of  mind  of  a  whole  series  of  generations :  "  There 
is  no  longer  any  mystery  "  (Berthelot).    Nothing  equals 
the  success  which  these  ideas  have  had  in  every  rank 
of  society.     They  have  spread  through  thousands  of 
channels,  among  all  classes.    For  many,  for  the  im- 
mense majority,  the  outcome  of  science,  duly  proved 


30 


YOUTH. 


> 


and  verified,  is  the  belief  that  what  we  call  the  higher 
realities  do  not  exist.  Man  is  an  animal  like  the  other 
animals.    It  is  easy  to  draw  this  practical  conclusion. 

At  giant  step  the  age  has  advanced  in  the  path  of 
realism,  —  scientific  at  first,  practical  next,  —  strewing 
its  way  heedlessly  with  all  that  constitutes  the  highest 
good  of  humanity.  It  has  replaced  the  conception  of  a 
living  world  with  that  of  a  dead  world.  Everywhere 
the  mechanical  has  superseded  the  spiritual.  Material- 
istic science  imputes  spirituality  neither  to  the  world  nor 
to  mankind.  For  it  there  is  no  hereafter.  The  uni- 
verse is  a  mighty  piece  of  fireworks  which  is  destined 
finally  to  be  reduced  to  elementary  atoms.  These  are 
the  days  when  certain  scholars  speak  as  if  they  knew 
everything.  As  to  the  ignorant,  they  are  more  positive 
still ;  and  the  greater  number  of  our  contemporaries  are 
bitten  by  the  stunted  conception  of  a  universe  which 
furnishes  no  grounds  for  their  beliefs,  their  conduct,  nor 
even  their  feelings.  What  do  things  such  as  these 
amount  to  in  the  eyes  of  scientific  realism  ?  Nothing. 
In  such  a  world  the  lot  of  man  is  to  descend  to  the 
grade  of  a  machine,  and  to  be,  according  to  circum- 
stances, a  machine  for  work,  for  study,  for  enjoy- 
ment, for  slaughter,  a  slave  of  lust,  or  food  for  the 
mitrailleuse. 

And  this  is  why,  after  having  worked  harder  and  in- 
vestigated more  thoroughly  than  any  age,  we  are  in 
danger  of  foundering  in  complete  nothingness. 

The  hidden  weakness,  the  flaw  in  the  armour  of  this 
grand  epoch,  has  been  to  forget  that  there  are  more 
things  in  heaven  and  earth  than  the  positive  sciences,  or 


THE  LOSSES  OF  THE  CENTURY. 


31 


even  all  human  knowledge,  can  prove.  Our  works 
have  grown  greater ;  we  have  grown  smaller.  Man  is 
lessened  in  his  own  eyes,  in  his  dignity,  and  in  his  as- 
pirations. The  crime  of  high  treason  against  humanity 
is  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  sufferings  of  our  times. 
Civilization  rests  on  man.  Remove  man  and  all 
the  immense  machinery  is  thrown  out  of  gear.  It  is 
because  its  basis,  man,  is  weak  that  our  civilization 
threatens  to  crumble  about  our  heads. 

And  this  is  not  the  most  striking  feature  in  the  pic- 
ture of  the  inheritance  which  our  children  will  receive. 
That  which  is  more  striking  still,  but  which  will  be  its 
salvation  if  our  successors  understand  it,  is  that  the 
world  in  which  we  live  is  thoroughly  contradictory. 
We  will  try  to  show  how. 


32 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  CONTRADICTIONS  OF  THE  CENTURY. 

TTHE  materialistic  conception  of  the  world,  and  such 
*  portions  of  our  civilization  as  are  the  temporary 
result  of  it,  seem  to  us  antagonistic  to  the  modern 
spirit  at  every  point.  The  modern  spirit  represents  the 
epitomized  inheritance  of  the  ages.  The  title  "  modern  " 
indicates  only  its  tendency  and  methods,  not  its  con- 
stituent parts,  for  they  are  drawn  from  every  source. 
It  can  be  well  defined  in  the  beautiful  words  of  Terence : 
Homo  sum ;  humani  nihil  a  me  alienum  puto.  The 
modern  spirit  is  the  sum  total,  condensed,  of  the  best 
which  humanity  has  drawn  from  all  the  mighty  labours 
and  all  the  suflFerings  of  the  past.  It  is,  in  the  domain 
of  thought,  a  broad  outlook  over  all  things,  a  premedi- 
tation to  exclude  nothing,  to  see  clearly  and  to  find  the 
truth  as  it  is,  without  any  reservation;  in  a  word, 
the  true  scientific  spirit. 

In  the  domain  of  the  affections,  it  is  a  kindly  dispo- 
sition, resolute  to  despise  no  one,  to  defraud  no  one, 
to  respect  in  especial  the  weak,  and  to  have  pity  on  all 
who  suffer.  It  is,  above  all,  the  glorification  of  labour 
as  the  mighty  power  which  makes  men  free  and  good. 

In  politics,  the  modern  spirit  is  the  democratic  spirit 
in  its  highest  sense.  It  recognizes,  as  the  regulators  of 
society,  right,  law,  justice,  and  joint  responsibility. 


THE  CONTRADICTIONS  OF  THE  CENTURY.         33 

If  there  were,  on  the  one  hand,  all  the  power,  the 
united  armies,  the  great  and  formidable  coalition  of 
nations  which  weigh  heaviest  in  the  scale,  and  on  the 
other  Justice  disarmed,  the  modem  spirit  would  de- 
mand  that  all  arms  should  be  laid  down,  and  that  all 
interests  be  silent  before  Justice. 

If  there  were,  on  the  one  hand,  the  masses  with  their 
clamour  and  transports  of  rage,  and  on  the  other  a 
single  wise  man  with  the  truth  on  his  side,  the  modern 
spirit  would  be  with  the  one  against  the  many.  Such 
is  the  modern  spirit ! 

Realism,  both  scientific  and  practical,  is  the  negation 

of  all  this. 

In  the  domain  of  thought,  realism  is  the  most  nar- 
row provincialism  one  can  imagine,  —  the  true  parish 
feeling,  which  considers  nothing  outside  of  its  limits. 
The  mighty  orchestra  of  worlds  and  of  lives  comes  to 
it  only  as  a  faint  sound,  a  monotonous  vibration  of  a 

single  cord. 

In  the  domain  of  the  affections,  realism  is  absolute 
egoism  ;  it  is  a  decision  to  consider  no  one,  and  to  treat 
as  imbecility  any  concession  to  a  fellow-man  which  is 
not  the  result  of  calculation.  There  is  only  one  right, 
that  of  the  strongest ;  one  law,  that  of  combat.  The 
weak  must  disappear.  Solidarity  is  nothing  but  a 
phrase,  conscience  a  chimera.  There  is  not  room 
for  all  the  world.  That  some  may  live,  others  must 
die.  Beati  possidentes.  Enjoyment  is  the  end  of  life. 
Work  is  considered  a  drudgery  that  procures  pleasure. 
It  would  be  much  better  if  we  could  take  our  pleasure 
without  it. 


54 


YOUTH. 


11 


In  politics,  realism  is  the  deification  of  bnite  force. 
In  the  higher  grades  of  society  it  is  tyranny ;  in  the 
lower,  unbridled  license ;  everywhere  it  is  a  savage  con- 
flict of  interests  and  passions.  It  is  doomed  to  oscillate 
between  the  despotism  of  the  masses  and  that  of  the 
individual,  each  devouring  the  other  in  turn.  Also, 
always  and  everywhere,  it  has  destroyed  liberty.  A 
democratic  realist  would  be  a  contradiction  in  terms. 

Realism  and  the  modern  spirit  are  in  conflict  in  the 
heart  of  existing  society.  It  is  that  which  makes  the 
situation  so  tragic,  and  life  seem  to  us  so  rich  in  con- 
trasts, so  deeply  and  so  worthily  stirred.  If  we  could 
deify  the  brute,  and  organize  in  all  its  horrible  beauty 
a  civilized  barbarism,  we  should  not  experience  the 
pangs  which  torture  us.  But  under  the  exterior  which 
realism,  for  the  moment  triumphant,  has  imposed  on 
us,  lives  and  suffers  a  better  self.  Against  every  hide- 
ous creation  with  which  brutality  obstructs  progress, 
the  modern  spirit  raises  its  voice  in  protest.  And  this 
spirit  is  not  the  last  sigh  of  an  expiring  world ;  it  is  a 
force  ever  strengthening,  though  impalpable,  which, 
without  belonging  to  the  individual,  knows  how  to  de- 
clare itself  in  a  thousand  ways  in  the  very  presence  of 
shame  and  weakness.  When  the  brute  force  that  acts  in 
animals  through  claws  and  talons  develops  in  the  breast 
of  man  into  the  fortress,  cannon,  dynamite,  or  even 
the  impudent  tyranny  of  the  majority  and  of  wealth, 
then  the  greater  grows  this  unseen  intangible  power.  It 
is  useless  to  declare  that  force  dominates  right,  to  call 
all  the  lower  forms  of  Nature  to  witness  and  to  furnish 
proof  of  those  deeds  of  violence  which  make  some  de- 


THE  CONTRADICTIONS  OF  THE  CENTURY.         35 

Clare  that  there  is  no  judge  on  earth ;  right  is  none 
the  less  a  power  against  which  naught  avails.  In  its 
own  good  time  it  breaks  forth,  sways  all  minds,  warms 
every  heart,  lightens  and  strikes  like  the  thunderbolt, 
and  the  works  of  brute  force  are  destroyed.  Though 
you  try  in  vain  to  understand  how  in  this  unequal  fight 
he  who  is  the  better  armed  goes  down,  you  can  see,  in 
noting  the  results,  that  a  great  and  mysterious  power 

has  been  there. 

I  make  allusion  to  socialism  simply  to  lay  my  finger 
on  one  of  the  places  where  the  modern  spirit  is  in 
sharp  conflict  with  realism.    What  is  socialism,  in  the 
large  and  noble  acceptation  of  the  word  ?    It   is  the 
assertion  of  the  value  of  life  and  the  principle  of 
solidarity,  the  inviolability  of  the  individual,  and  his 
indissoluble  connection  with  society.     All  for  each; 
each  for  all !    To  be  a  socialist  it  is  necessary  to  have 
consideration  for  others,— above  all,  for  the  weak,  for 
children,  for  women,  for  all  that  are  desolate,  outraged, 
and  oppressed.     What  is  done  to  them  is  done  to  our- 
selves, to  humanity,  nay,  to  God.    You  must,  to  be 
a  socialist,  understand  the  relations  necessary  to  unite 
closely  the  members  of  society  in  all  stages  of  develop- 
ment, and  you  must  cherish  a  kindly  feeling  for  all 
forms  of  human  life,  in  order  to  appreciate  the  relations 
of  individuals  and  the  most  diverse  conditions.    What 
is  all  this  from  the  realist's  point  of  view  ? 

The  realist  says:  Each  one  for  himself.  When  he 
has  eaten  and  drunken,  the  world  is  bright,  and  all  goes 
well.  When  he  is  hungry,  all  goes  ill,  everything  must 
be  destroyed.    These  two  ways  of  regarding  life  meet 


36 


YOUTH. 


face  to  face  in  our  society.  Nay  more,  they  coexist 
often  in  the  same  persons.  Among  our  contemporaries 
there  are  many  who  have  assimilated  the  materialistic 
conception  of  life,  and  even  in  their  morale  are  realists. 
But  you  hear  them  proclaim  the  right,  invoke  justice, 
and  exalt  responsibility.  It  is  as  if  they  made  a  va- 
cuum under  a  glass  for  a  bird's  house.  They  do  not 
take  into  consideration  the  incompatibility  between  their 
conception  of  the  world  and  the  men  and  things  they 
wish  to  place  in  it. 

We  could  find  material  for  the  same  class  of  remarks 
in  very  different  spheres.  A  countless  host  of  men  live 
to-day  by  expedients  and  contradictions.  They  remind 
us  of  those  creations  of  artistic  imagination,  dragons, 
sphinxes,  and  fabulous  monsters,  where  the  eagle,  the  lion, 
the  serpent,  and  man  are  united  in  one  fantastic  animal. 
Do  not  imagine  that  these  strange  amalgamations  are 
met  only  among  uncultured  people.  They  are  every- 
where. It  cannot  be  helped,  —  man  is  the  product  of 
his  times.  The  evidences  of  the  antagonism  which  runs 
through  the  very  heart  of  our  existing  civilization  show 
themselves  in  every  man.  In  the  discourses  of  pro- 
fessors, of  statesmen,  and  even  of  instructors  of  religion, 
one  meets  them.  Many  a  statesman  making  an  address 
begins  by  lauding  the  positive  sciences  or  by  laying 
down  utilitarian  axioms ;  but,  drawn  by  his  subject  into 
the  field  of  education,  of  morality,  of  public  order,  he 
ends  in  absolute  idealism. 

Matters  are,  besides,  complicated  by  another  factor 
of  considerable  importance,  —  namely,  the  reactionary 
movement.    The  reactionists  lay  to  the  account  of  the 


THE  CONTRADICTIONS  OF  THE  CENTURY.         37 

modern  spirit  all  the  evils  of  existing  society,  and  the 
difficulties  with  which  it  contends.    They  propose  to 
set  all  right  by  a  return  to  the  status  quo  of  the  fifteenth 
century.    It  is  a' great  undertaking,  as  can  be  seen,  and 
we  will  refer  to  it  again ;  for  this  movement  has  many 
ramifications,  and  affects  many  minds  in  different  de- 
grees.   Reactionary  minds  for  one  class,  those  imbued 
with  the  modern  spirit  for  another,  and  a  few  materialists 
to  boot,  —  a  good  many  of  us  are  of  this  way  of  thinking. 
In  truth,  the  modern  spirit  in  many  people  brings  to 
mind  house-moving.    Part  of  the  furniture  is  already 
in  the  new  house ;  part  is  in  the  street,  tossed  about  pell- 
mell,  exposed  to  the  weather  and  to  accidents ;  part  is 
still  quietly  installed  in  the  old  home.    All  this  makes 
a  crisis  and  a  state  of  transformation  most  complicated. 
In  a  time  of  simple  habits  the  suffering  which  such  a 
crisis  produces  is  lessened  by  outside  circumstances ; 
but  in  our  day  our  culture  increases  the  complication, 
which  is,  in  short,  found  in  every  department,  spiritual 
and  material  alike.    The  men  of  our  day  have  been 
taken  unaware  by  a  too  abrupt  change  of  the  conditions 
of  existence.     Events  have  overstepped  them  and  led 
them  astray.    The  accumulated  results  of  the  causes  we 
have  set  to  work  without  knowing  their  power,  trouble 
and  frighten  us.    The  more  complex  an  organism  is, 
the  more  it  suffers.    A  man  dies  of  a  wound,  while 
some  inferior  organisms  live  though  cut  to  pieces.    A 
carriage  may  lose  a  wheel  without  great  danger ;  for  a 
locomotive  it  is  a  catastrophe. 

.  At  this  very  time  civilization  has  become  an  immense 
machine  whose  workings  escape  the  foresight  of  the 


Ill 

I*  I 

11:1 


38 


YOUTH. 


wisest ;  it  goes  on  its  devilish  way,  and  in  the  midst  of 
its  uproar  man  cries  out  as  he  feels  himself  beneath  its 
wheels. 

The  recent  past  leaves  us  a  work  grand  but  incom-" 
plete  ;  it  lacks  a  united  spirit,  a  soul.  In  face  of  pro- 
digious accumulation  of  material  strength,  of  riches,  of 
knowledge,  we  are  continuously  impoverished  in  moral 
energy,  in  fraternity,  in  faith ;  but  the  greatest  failure 
has  been  man. 

We  must  produce  men  who  can  govern  themselves, 
and  become  masters  of  the  new  world  in  order  to  ac- 
quire the  good  that  is  in  it.  We  can  reach  this  end  by 
a  return  to  normal  thinking,  which  is  the  application 
of  the  inductive  method  to  all  human  facts,  and,  above 
all,  to  the  forgotten  realities  of  the  spiritual  world; 
by  a  return  to  a  normal  way  of  living,  —  to  reverence, 
to  a  feeling  of  responsibility,  to  work,  and  to  simplicity  ; 
by  strengthening,  in  a  word,  the  modern  spirit  as  we 
have  defined  it,  and  by  placing  at  its  disposition  all  the 
resources  with  which  science  has  endowed  us. 

But  is  such  an  undertaking  possible?  Can  youth, 
upon  whom  in  great  measure  the  task  will  fall,  rise  to 
the  situation  ?    Has  it  the  knowledge  ? 

If  the  proverb,  "  As  are  the  fathers,  so  are  the  sons,'* 
is  true, —  if  heredity,  if  the  path  already  marked  out,  if 
the  surroundings,  are  the  grand  determining  influences 
of  youth,  —  what  awaits  that  of  to-day,  if  not  a  con- 
tinuance of  our  errors  ?  Are  the  sons  wiser  than  their 
fathers  ?  It  is  rare,  but  nevertheless  it  has  been  known. 
But  we  will  make  no  conjectures. 


Book  Second. 


THE     HEIRS. 


The  fathers  have  eaten  sour  grapes,  and 
the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge. 

EZEKIEL. 


ISoofe   Seconli* 


CHAPTER  I. 


THE  WORLD  OF  YOUTH. 

TN  society,  always  and  everywhere,  youth  is  the  me- 
^  dium  through  which  the  qualities  and  the  short- 
comings of  the  social  structure  best  show  themselves. 
They  appear  like  the  refracted  rays  of  the  prism,  more 
startling  in  their  separation  and  in  the  contrasts  of  the 
spectral  grouping.  All  the  range  of  colours  is  there, 
with  a  vigour  of  tone  which  excludes  intermediate 
shades.  Youth  sings  the  praises  of  its  season  in  the 
streets,  and  shouts  its  fantasies  from  the  housetops.  It  is 
in  it  that  are  found  the  most  serious  predilections  toward 
vice  and  the  most  powerful  impulses  toward  virtue.  It 
must  necessarily  be  so.  With  its  natural  enthusiasm,  its 
habit  of  jumping  at  conclusions,  and  its  disregard  of 
consequences,  youth  carries  to  extremes  the  work  of  its 
predecessors.  It  is  pure  assumption  to  say  that  the  dis- 
ciples follow  the  master.  The  disciples  go  too  fast  for 
that.  In  general,  the  masters  follow  them  and  strive  in 
vain  to  hold  them  back.  This  is  true  not  only  of  stu- 
dious youth  but  of  all  youth.  We  are  at  school  or  col- 
lege till  a  certain  age,  and  they  are  not  always  the  best 
lessons  which  are  listened  to  most  closely.    The  force 


42 


YOUTH. 


THE  WORLD  OF  YOUTH. 


43 


';  > 


i'l 


ti 


n 


of  example  and  of  impulse  is  perhaps  greater  in  the 
youth  of  the  people  than  in  those  of  the  schools.  Opin- 
ions  which  take  hold  of  the  highest  intelligences  spread 
among  the  masses  more  quickly  than  one  would  think. 
Through  what  hidden  interstices  do  they  infiltrate  the 
heart  of  the  illiterate  herd  ?  No  one  knows.  But  it  is 
a  fact  that  a  few  years  often  suffice  to  disseminate  cer- 
tain new  currents  of  thought  from  the  university  cen- 
tres to  the  humblest  hamlets.  When  the  thought  is 
pernicious,  its  effects  are  more  apparent  in  proportion 
as  it  makes  its  way  among  a  simple-minded  people.  It 
acts  then  as  alcohol  on  savages.  The  youth  of  the  peo- 
ple is  perhaps  the  field  wherein  the  ravages  of  unwhole- 
some lessons  can  be  most  clearly  observed.  We  find 
there  rendered  in  the  vulgar  tongue  practical  illustrations 
of  this  enough  to  make  the  hair  stand  up  on  one's 

head. 

We  cannot  watch  nor  study  youth  too  closely. 
Without  our  suspecting,  it  gives  as  many  lessons  as  it 

receives. 

Some,  it  is  true,  speak  of  it  only  under  their  breath 
and  with  a  shrug.  For  them,  youth  means  disrespect, 
conceit,  and  a  satisfied  ignorance  that  criticises  what  it 
does  not  understand.  It  is  the  age  of  irreverence,  folly, 
and  noise,  which  follows  its  breakneck  course,  without 
regard  for  any  one,  through  the  peaceful  habits  of  sober 
citizens. 

Others  speak  of  youth  cynically  always,  with  a  smile 
of  connivance  which  recalls  the  old  augurs.  For  them 
youth  is  synonymous  with  riot  and  disorder.  Men  of 
pleasure,  who  regard  life  not  as  a  sacred  deposit  but  as 


so  much  pocket-money  to  throw  away  right  and  left 
at  a  show,  consider  that  young  people  are  lucky  to  be  at 
the  top,  when  they  themselves  have  long  since  reached 
the  bottom  of  the  purse. 

A  third  class  of  people  there  is,  who  consider  youth 
as  in  the  way,  with  the  malevolence  of  an  old  father 
who  knows  that  his  son  is  waiting  for  his  money. 
They  bear  youth  ill-will  because  it  is  full  of  life  and 
enjoys  the  sunshine  and  will  probably  survive  them.  A 
bad  disposition  this !  It  is  like  turning  to  the  coming 
spring  the  scowling  forehead  of  departing  winter.  It 
will  not  hinder  the  grass  from  growing  and  the  flowers 
from  blooming. 

It  is  true  that  youth  has  given  some  justification  for 
these  different  ways  of  looking  at  it.  There  is  an  irrev- 
erent youth,  a  youth  of  dissipation,  a  youth  longing 
for  its  patrimony,  and  lacking  not  only  tact  toward 
those  who  are  nearing  the  end  of  life,  but  gratitude  for 
the  service  they  have  rendered.  There  are  conceited 
youth,  who  fancy  that  nothing  can  go  rightly  without 
them;  and  Heaven  knows  how  irritating  they  are! 
But  all  these  extravagances  are  but  one  aspect  of  the 
world  of  youth.  I  readily  admit  that  in  certain  of  its 
details  it  is  as  bad  as  possible,  that  it  is  the  delight  of 
blockheads  and  the  despair  of  the  wise ;  but  notwith- 
standing all  this,  I  affirm  that  there  is  in  it  material  of 
the  very  best.  It  is  too  often  forgotten ;  and  this  for- 
getfulness,  this  lack  of  confidence  and  of  observation, 
is  a  great  misfortune. 

I  have  never  looked  at  a  child's  head  at  some  grace- 
ful period  in  its  development  without  being  struck 


44 

■  ■ 


YOUTH. 


THE  WORLD  OF  YOUTH. 


45 


i 


ji 


with  the  wealth  of  hope  and  promise  which  surrounds 
its  young  life.  It  is  the  touching  and  truthful  prophecy 
of  a  perfect  humanity.  Oh !  who  can  make  us  know 
what  this  little  head  contains,  can  teach  us  to  develop 
and  ripen  all  that  is  waiting  in  it  to  express  itself  ?  Ah, 
well,  there  is  a  sight  more  beautiful  than  that  of  a  lovely 
child  in  perfect  health.  It  is  the  figure  of  a  youth  at  the 
time  when  he,  though  still  a  lad,  is  yet  a  man,  in  full 
possession  of  that  virginity  of  his  entire  being  which 
makes  him,  while  devoting  himself  to  no  one  thing  ex- 
clusively, take  a  kindly  interest  in  every  one  and  be 
earnestly  inquisitive  as  to  everything.  Assuredly  at 
that  time  of  life  we  are  better  than  later  on ;  and  the 
wisest  thing  the  mature  man  can  do  is  to  remain  true  to 
the  first  impression  of  his  youth  and  to  cherish  always 
its  fruitful  memory. 

At  certain  moments  of  force  and  inspiration  the 
young  man  lives  on  a  higher  plane  of  feeling,  he  pos- 
sesses treasures  in  himself,  he  is  the  king  of  hope ; 
but  he  is  a  suflfering  king.  Youth  is  the  age  of  the 
most  cruel  and  most  violent  griefs.  Those  who  speak 
of  its  light-heartedness  have  never  understood  it,  or 
have  long  since  forgotten.  It  is  a  dolorous  royalty 
which  carries  on  its  brow  a  crown  of  thorns.  From  the 
outset  youth  perceives  of  itself  more  acutely  than  any 
one  the  contrast  between  the  good  dimly  seen  but 
loved,  and  the  evil  possible  and  often  actual.  Then 
its  heart  is  broken  every  day  by  contact  with  life. 
Magnificent  and  miserable  at  the  same  time,  it  knows 
in  all  its  profundity  the  bitterness  of  the  disillusions 
which  come  in  contrasting  what  it  feels  with  what  it 


sees  going  on  in  the  world.  And  this  grief  of  youth  is 
not  a  childish  thing,  as  is  claimed  by  men  who  call 
themselves  positivists,  but  are  really  only  fools.  It  is  a 
most  holy  thing,  for  it  contains  the  hope  of  something 
better.  From  it  comes  salvation.  In  vain  shall  the  world 
grow  old  and  even  impart  to  new  generations  its  decre- 
pitude by  heredity  and  example ;  it  cannot  hinder  now 
and  then  the  birth  and  development  of  beings  endowed 
with  an  exquisite  freshness  of  impressions.  Set  these 
beings,  full  of  healthful  curiosity  and  all  generous  im- 
pulses, in  the  framework  of  a  narrow  tradition,  a  cleri- 
calism, a  particularism,  a  utilitarianism,  a  tyranny  of 
some  sort,  and  in  this  rarefied  situation  they  will  suffer 
martyrdom,  they  will  be  homesick  for  air  and  liberty 
like  captive  birds,  their  grief  will  make  itself  heard; 
they  will  appeal  to  every  better  instinct,  to  every  soul 
like  their  own  in  the  past,  to  every  sympathetic  force  of 
nature  or  man,  to  help  them  fight  that  which  crushes 
them ;  they  will  break  their  irons,  unless,  indeed,  their 
irons  break  them.  In  that  case  how  great  the  suffer- 
ing !  The  hosts  of  martyrs  in  every  cause,  dead  in  their 
youth,  stand  forth  to  witness  it.  But  I  do  not  speak  of 
them  only;  I  speak  of  the  youth  which  has  suffered 
from  jest  and  scoff  because  of  the  dream  of  beauty  within 
it.  Its  name  is  legion,  and  will  always  be.  The  more 
the  world  strays  from  the  normal  path,  the  more  heavily 
it  falls  back  on  the  shoulders  of  the  young.  Weighed 
down  under  chains  they  have  not  forged,  they  plan  in 
their  suffering  a  liberty  from  which  they  will,  perhaps, 
never  profit.  I  say  that  this  youth  is  the  most  beauti- 
ful of  all.    It  is  immortal.    It  is  bom  unceasingly  from 


I 

»; 


,1 


46 


YOUTH. 


INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION. 


47 


the  best  blood  of  humanity  as  a  reverent  and  faithful 
heir  of  the  treasures  of  the  past,  to  increase  and  hand 
them  on  to  the  future.  Its  watchword  is:  Begin 
anew,  ever  begin  anew  ! 

Let  us  never  forget  this.  In  reviewing  contemporary 
youth,  its  weaknesses,  its  shortcomings,  let  us  remember 
this  for  our  comfort.  It  is  a  never-failing  source  of 
courage,  of  healing,  of  alleviation ;  it  is  the  true  fountain 
of  youth,  whose  source  is  hidden  in  the  dark  recesses  of 
a  soil  man*s  hand  can  never  reach. 


CHAPTER  II. 

INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION.^ 

ORIENTATION  is,  in  general,  no  slight  affair.    That 
this  manifold,  rich,  incomparable  thing  we  call  life 
may  find  in  the  soul  of  man  a  representation,  not  com- 
plete, but  adequate  and  above  all  harmonious,  what 
a  union  of  efforts  must  there  not  be  !    Life  is  always, 
and  in  all  ages,  a  problem ;  but  there  are  epochs  when  the 
solution  seems  to  be  more  or  less  found.    The  sons, 
then,  have  but  to  step  in  the  footprints  of  their  fathers. 
But  this  is  not  the  case  in  our  day.    Our  fathers  left 
off  in  uncertainty.      Under  nearly  all  its  forms  the 
grand  problem  of  life  has  now  assumed  a  critical  char- 
acter.   In  whatever  quarter  of  the  horizon  we  look,  a 
silent  sphinx  is  seated.    Such  are  the  environments  of 
our  youth.    Would  that  it  were  beset  by  circumstances 
only,  and  left  free  to  disentangle  itself !    But  men  have 
intermeddled  to  interpret  things  according  to  their  own 
fashion,  to  pervert  them  to  their  necessity,  and  to 
exercise  over  youthful   generations  a  disturbing   in- 
fluence.   It  is,  then,  a  difficult  task  to  characterize  such 
a  state  of  things.    As  well  strive  to  fix  the  shifting 

1  Orientation,  which  is  here  used  figuratively,  is  defined  by  Web- 
ster :  "  The  process  of  determining  the  points  of  the  compass  or  the 
east  point  in  taking  bearings." 


48 


YOUTH. 


INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION. 


49 


I 


I  ■> 


picture  of  the  waves.  We  will  try,  nevertheless,  but  with 
the  feeling  that  we  shall  fall  far  short,  though  we  speak 
only  of  things  seen  and  lived. 

We  will  begin  by  considering  the  great  current  of 
thought  which  is  met  oftenest  in  the  world,  and  which 
is  the  logical  sequence  of  the  situation  created  by  the 
departing  century.  Next  after  this  we  will  examine  the 
reactionary  movement,  that  we  may  end  by  showing 
certain  signs  of  a  new  point  of  view. 

When  the  young  man  fitted  by  special  studies  has 
doubled  the  cape  of  his  first  examinations  and  reached 
the  university,  two  great  tasks  await  him,  —  to  assimilate 
a  curriculum,  and  to  form  a  conception  of  the  world. 
The  first  is  necessary  to  a  career ;  the  second  if  he  would 
become  a  man.  Of  these  two  tasks  one  is  as  strictly 
defined,  as  scrupulously  regulated,  as  the  other  is  left 
to  chance.  Let  us  speak  of  the  first.  It  is  study  in 
its  true  sense.  What  principally  distinguishes  our 
studious  youth  in  this  connection  is  its  warm  interest 
in  knowledge.  There  are  to-day  numbers  of  hard- 
working young  men  in  all  its  departments.  Among 
what  may  be  called  the  Hite  of  intellect  work  is 
rough  and  severe.  It  is  not  rare  for  a  student  to  shut 
himself  into  his  room,  bar  his  door,  and  live  for  a  time 
the  life  of  the  cloister.  Necessity,  besides,  urges  him  on. 
To  attain  a  result  it  is  not  enough  to  employ  the  proper 
methods,  there  must  be  that  sustained  application,  that 
abnegation,  which  the  assimilation  of  scientific  facts  de- 
mands. Formerly  personal  application,  research,  the 
introduction  of  new  facts  were  of  more  importance,  be- 
cause everything  was  yet  to  be  done.     Each  domain 


had  any  number  of  unexplored  corners.  Now  that 
kind  of  activity  has  decreased,  and  the  other,  the  study 
of  assimilation,  has  increased.  Before  investigating  and 
thinking  for  one's  self,  which  is  the  delight  of  the  in- 
tellectual life,  it  is  necessary  to  open  laboriously  a 
road  across  the  mountains  of  information  accumulated 
by  others.  One  is  full  of  zeal  to  set  out  and  explore, 
full  of  curiosity  as  to  everything ;  but  stop,  —  there  are 
so  many  instructions  to  receive,  so  many  provisions  to 
take  along,  that  one  grows  old  and  has  spent  one's  best 
energies  in  preparation.  Intellectual  youth  enters  on 
unknown  contests  with  the  impossible  which  are  tragic 

to  behold. 

The  first  result  of  this  kind  of  work  is  overtraining, 
a  sort  of  hyperesthesia  of  the  receptive  faculties,  with 
a  crushing  of  individual  effort  under  this  extraneous 
material,  and  mental  barrenness.  The  other  result  is 
increasing  specialization.  The  force  of  circumstances 
confines  each  man  to  his  own  department.  This  is 
particularly  true  in  the  exact  and  natural  sciences,  where 
the  limits  are  clearly  defined.  In  literature,  history,  etc., 
it  is  difllcult  not  to  look  occasionally  out  of  the  enclosure ; 
but  there  also  the  mass  of  material  obliges  a  man  to 
keep  within  bounds,  and  when  he  aspires  to  some  wide 
range  shuts  him  up  in  the  narrow  limits  of  a  precise 
period.  Thus,  little  by  little,  the  survey  of  adjacent 
provinces  is  lost.  With  a  maximum  of  trouble  we  gain 
a  minimum  of  pleasure,  and  our  horizon  is  narrowed. 
This  is  not  a  loss  peculiar  to  our  country.  It  is  a  con- 
sequence  of  the  existing  state  of  human  knowledge. 
The  material  collected  is  enormous,  and  it  is  not  yet  set  in 


r. 


I 


»i 


I 


50 


YOUTH. 


order.  Knowledge  exists  only  in  fragments.  No  one 
can  conceive  its  entirety,  nor,  above  all,  declare  its  rdle 
in  the  harmony  of  human  affairs.  It  thus  comes  about 
that  a  man  is  interested  in  his  own  specialty  only. 
The  privilege  of  ignoring  facts  foreign  to  his  own 
province  has  long  been  allowed  the  scholar.  Youth 
necessarily  takes  advantage  of  this  privilege.  What 
other  course  has  it  ?  But  the  necessary  consequence  of 
this  intellectual  rigime  is  the  difficulty  of  generalization, 
and  the  difficulty,  nay,  the  impossibility,  of  forming  a 
coneeption  of  the  world. 

We  have  now  reached  the  second  part  of  the  task 
which  is  incumbent  on  youth.  Whether  or  no,  each 
one  makes  his  own  philosophy.  When  it  is  not 
positive,  it  is  negative,  and  it  is  no  small  shame  to  a 
man  to  be  obliged  to  write  "  Nothing"  when  he  is  asked 
what  are  his  views  of  life. 

In  this  respect  the  life  of  studious  youth  of  to-day  is 
very  different  from  that  of  its  predecessors.  They  re- 
ceived a  different  kind  of  education.  They  were  held 
fast  by  many  ties  to  old  traditions  and  ancient  beliefs. 
The  great  humanizing  breath  of  the  last  century  still 
affected  them.  They  lived  in  a  part  of  that  complex 
heritage,  thinking  at  the  time  that  they  lived  only  in 
what  they  knew.  Thus  in  the  midst  of  these  great 
agglomerations  of  cities,  many  workers,  shut  up  in  too 
close  air,  owed  their  vigour  and  their  health  to  the 
robust  constitutions  they  had  brought  from  the  fields. 
Their  successors  of  the  second  and  third  generation 
live  less  easily,  and  succumb  in  a  place  where  perhaps 
the  others  would  have  thrived,  thanks  to  their  healthful 


INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION. 


51 


antecedents.  It  is  the  same  in  the  province  of  thought 
with  the  youth  of  to-day.  Its  predecessors  have  cleared 
the  field  of  all  that  constitutes  the  domain  of  general 
ideas,  —  that  vast  spiritual  capital  which  thousands  and 
thousands  of  years  of  human  thought  had  slowly  laid 
away  in  the  depths  of  the  soul,  as  the  array  of  fauna 
and  flora  long  since  disappeared  have  left  their  im- 
print in  geologic  strata.  There  is  lacking  to  these  last 
comers,  too,  a  number  of  advantages  from  which  their 
fathers  profited  without  suspecting  it ;  and  it  is  on  this 
account  that  they  sometimes  find  the  new  generation 
strange.  But  when  we  look  closely  at  it,  we  are  not 
surprised. 

Our  work  has  increased  and  become  complex,  and  the 
conception  of  the  world  and  mankind  which  has  sprung 
from  materialism  no  longer  gives  the  worker  satis- 
faction. Why  so  much  labour  to  beautify,  direct,  and 
investigate  a  life  which  is  only  nothing?  Why  so 
many  pains,  if,  after  all,  goodness,  justice,  truth,  are 
only  idle  fictions,  and  if  universal  vanity  enwraps  as 
well  our  knowledge  as  our  ignorance,  our  most  noble 
efforts  as  well  as  our  most  ignoble  indolence  ? 

To  this  must  be  added  the  uncertainty  which  has 
sprung  up  with  regard  to  knowledge  itself.  The  genera- 
tions which  preceded  us  had  replaced  the  old  beliefs  with 
a  new  one,  — the  belief  in  knowledge.  What  Renan 
wrote  in  1848  may  serve  as  the  expression  of  opinion 
of  a  host  of  men,  still  living,  who  for  many  years  have 
directed  thought :  "  For  myself,  I  know  but  one  result  of 
science ;  it  is  to  solve  the  enigma,  to  tell  man  definitely 
the  names  of  things,  to  explain  him  to  himself.    It  is  to 


52 


YOUTH. 


INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION. 


53 


'' 


] 


it 


give  him  in  the  name  of  the  only  human  authority  — 
that  is,  the  whole  of  human  nature  —  the  symbols  which 
religion  gave  him  ready-made,  and  which  he  can  no 
longer  accept.    Yes,  there  will  come  a  day  when  man 
will  believe  no  longer,  he  will  know ;  a  day  when  he 
will  know  the  world  of  metaphysics  and  morals  as 
he  knows  already  the  physical  world."    How  strangely 
these  words  sound  to  our  youth !  Hardly  half  a  century 
is  behind  them,  yet  they  seem  to  come  from  the  depths 
of  the  far-off  past.    There  is  an  abyss  between  elderly 
and  mature  men  and  the  young  generation  of  scientists. 
The  latter  love  science ;  but   how  far  they  are  from 
thinking  that  we  know  the  physical  world,  and  how 
much  farther  still  from  thinking  that  we  can  know  the 
world  of  morals  or  even  of  metaphysics!    Many  of 
our  young  contemporaries,   in   default   of  a  better, 
have  adopted  the  philosophy  of  the  unknowable  ;  thus 
establishing  at  least  a  negative  category  to  mark  the 
place  of  the  appalling  and  tremendous  horizons  which 
stretch  away  to  the  infinite,  beyond  human  knowledge. 
A  clearer  separation  between  its  different  provinces  no 
longer  allows  them  to  class  as  knowledge  all  the  forms 
through  which  the  real  is  accessible  to  us.    Here  is  the 
starting-point  for  a  number  of  new  prepossessions,  to 
which  we  will  return  later,  for  they  are  cherished  by  a 
few.    The  greater  number  have  drawn  for  themselves 
another  conclusion.     The    contradictions  of   science, 
opposing  systems  deduced  from  the  same  facts,  analy- 
sis as  exaggerated  as  questionable  applied  to  human 
thought,  have  shaken  for  them  the  very  foundation  of 
knowledge,  which,  after  all,  is  only  a  confidence  in 


the  existence  of  men  and  things.  They  are  no  longer 
sure  of  anything,  no  more  sure  of  knowledge  than  of 
conscience. 

!t  is  for  this  reason  that  our  young  workers  generally, 
though  ardent,  are  not  enthusiasts.    Their  ardour  has 
its  source  in  those  unknown  depths  whence  comes  to 
man  his  best  aspirations,  and  which  connect  him  with 
the  real  notwithstanding  his  ignorance  and  his  voluntary 
shortcomings.    Enthusiasm  would  be  the  same  ardour 
with  the  addition  that  it  had  taken  cognizance  of  itself 
and  its  ideal.    But  this  is  a  thing  positive  science  can- 
not  permit  to  its  disciples.    How  many  are  there,  of 
these  young  lives,  laborious  and  needy !    New  ascetics 
they,  who  by  reason  of  cultivating  in  themselves  knowl- 
edge as  the  one  thing  only,  end  by  condemning  them- 
selves in  everything  else  to  inanition.    When  some  day 
the  future  shall  have  completed  the  synthesis  of  the 
vast  total  of  materials  which  we  are  preparing,  and 
when  our  descendants  shall  enter  on  one  of  those 
periods  of  life,  broad  and  complete,  where  humanity, 
in  possession  of  its  formula  for  a  time,  pursues  its  march 
in  peace  and  security,  it  will  be  grateful  beyond  expres- 
sion to  these  workers  who  labour  over  detail  without 
daring  or  being  able  to  rise  to  the  whole.    Their  merit 
is  the  greater  in  that  they  have  less  of  hope. 

How  long  a  time  could  one  live  thus  in  complete 
spiritual  anarchy,  without  a  firm  base,  without  a  homo- 
geneous direction } 

There  are  many  and  significant  indications  of  unrest 
among  the  best  minds.  Youth,  as  it  comes,  asks  its 
way.    It  is  answered  :  There  is  but  one,  —  knowledge. 


54 


YOUTH. 


INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION. 


55 


It  dashes  forward ;  but  hardly  has  it  set  out  when  ten 
roads  present  themselves  instead  of  one.  It  is  urged  in 
the  most  opposite  ways,  and  always  in  the  name  of 
knowledge.  It  hears  the  title  of  knowledge  refused  to 
morality,  to  history,  to  psychology.  Out  of  its  reck- 
oning, it  is  in  doubt  as  to  its  course.  The  situation  is 
serious.  The  better  minds  disagree,  and  lose  courage 
in  the  long  run.  The  superficial  or  commonplace  get 
out  of  it  more  easily ;  they  declare  in  a  very  short 
time  that  the  pros  and  cons  are  equal,  and  they,  like  the 
others,  become  sceptics. 

Instructors  and  men  qualified  to  judge  have  declared 
on  many  occasions,  in  these  latter  times,  that  scepticism 
has  not  affected  the  youth  of  France,  that  the  spirit  of 
the  nation  was  opposed  to  this  malady  as  well  as  to  pes- 
simism. Alas !  though  one  is  a  Frenchman  and  a  Gaul, 
one  is  no  less  a  man,  exposed  to  the  dangers  which 
exclusive  tendencies  have  created  in  human  nature. 
When  we  elevate  one  human  faculty  into  the  only  ar- 
biter and  the  supreme  law,  we  can  be  very  sure  that 
we  not  only  wrong  the  others,  but  that  what  we  wish 
to  establish  on  their  ruins  is  seriously  compromised.  To 
live  at  all,  man  must  be  alive  everywhere.  Certain 
extreme  and  debilitating  regimens  induce  indifference 
and  scepticism,  no  matter  what  their  latitude  or  their 
nationality.  The  truth  is,  that  thoughtful  youth  which 
tries  to  account  to  itself  for  things,  and  desires  to  reach 
the  light  about  itself,  has  suffered  for  a  number  of 
years.  It  has  known  scepticism  thoroughly  and  entirely, 
and  is  still  far  from  a  cure. 

This  state  of  mind  is  largely  shown  in  the  writings  of 


the  younger  generation.  We  recognize  throughout 
these  productions  minds  which  have  suffered  severe 
mutilation,  and  which  on  that  account  can  traverse  the 
immensities  of  history  and  of  the  soul  without  meeting 
anything  but  nothingness.  These  writings,  by  way  of 
compensation,  in  all  that  concerns  external  mechanism 
are  usually  extraordinary.  It  is  natural  to  see  youth 
put  into  its  work  an  ardent  spirit,  and  one  so  sure  of 
itself,  so  absorbed  in  its  own  enthusiasms,  as  to  be  care- 
less of  form.  We  have  under  our  eyes  the  exact 
contrary, — much  facility,  little  inspiration,  and  still  less 
assurance.  Here  is  what  Monsieur  Sully- Prudhomme 
writes  as  to  poetry  in  especial,  in  the  preface  to  a  book 
by  a  youth,  which  is  a  direct  exception  to  the  present 
rule,  Jeunesse  pensive  poisies  de  A.  Dor  chain :  "  There 
has  never,  perhaps,  been  more  verse  published  in  France 
than  during  these  last  years,  and  these  verses  are  for 
the  most  part  well  done.  Nearly  all  beginners  astonish 
one  by  a  singular  precocity ;  the  most  secret  artifices  of 
versification  are  familiar  to  them,  they  are  accomplished 
virtuosos,  —  in  a  word,  they  know  their  trade.  But 
never  has  the  trade  been  more  clearly  distinguishable 
from  the  true  art,  for  it  must  be  said  that  those  who 
have  cleverness  are  much  more  numerous  than  those 
who  have  inspiration." 

Charming  literary  forms  covering  an  abyss  of  disillu- 
sion !  In  truth,  wherever  we  look,  in  literature  as  in 
art,  we  are  face  to  face  with  the  same  heart-breaking 
phenomenon.  One  meets  only  dainty  and  delicate 
expressions,  the  sentiments  of  men  who  believe  in  noth- 
ing.   In  philosophy,  the  sciences,  the  arts,  the  decay  of 


56 


YOUTH. 


INTELLECTUAL  ORIENTATION. 


57 


I 


principles  is  complete.  Youth  arrives  on  the  field  like 
the  volunteer  companies  in  long  wars,  when  affairs  are 
well  under  way.  On  all  the  roads  where  it  would  ad- 
vance it  sees  stragglers  returning,  who  have  thrown 
away  their  arms  and  declare  that  nothing  can  be  done. 
It  requires  much  less  energy  to  go  toward  the  unknown, 
even  when  most  formidable,  with  a  glow  of  hope  at 
heart,  than  to  take  the  mental  roads  where  one  meets 
every  instant  the  vanquished  and  wounded.  The  grand 
horizons  of  thought  therefore  are  almost  deserted. 

I  mention  only  incidentally  a  certain  dilettanteism 
which  interests  itself  in  everything  and  holds  to  noth- 
ing. How  shall  we  consider  this  au  sirieux  without 
becoming  the  object  of  the  indulgent  irony  of  its  adepts  ? 
This  affected  and  unwholesome  turn  of  mind  has  none 
the  less  had  a  great  influence  over  youth.  There  has 
been  in  these  days  only  too  great  a  number  of  men, 
young  in  years  but  blighted  by  premature  decay,  who, 
without  affirming  or  denying,  without  believing  or 
doubting,  are  seated  on  the  edge  of  the  arena  to  observe 
the  vanity  of  human  thought  and  of  all  that  is  done, 
and  are  satisfied  to  smile  where  others  give  their  heart, 
their  life,  their  blood. 


The  religious  feeling  in  such  a  state  of  affairs  can  be 
imagined.  Among  those  who  have  not  received  special 
instruction  in  their  youth,  there  is  none  whatever. 
Others  have  seen  their  childish  beliefs  give  way  at  the 
first  contact  with  scientific  negations.  Among  those 
who  have  preserved  traces  of  a  religious  education,  it  is 
rather  because  of  the  persistence  of  their  impressions 


and  habits  than  by  reason  of  any  mental  process. 
Divided  between  a  certain  mode  of  thought  and  the 
operations  of  science,  they  live  in  two  worlds.  It  is  a 
modus  Vivendi  between  the  heart  faithful  to  its  memo- 
ries, and  the  intellect  which  no  longer  recognizes  them. 
There  is,  on  this  subject,  in  many  young  minds  an 
incredible  but  touching  medley  of  contraries.  Some- 
times this  heterogeneous  medley  begins  to  ferment,  and 
then  those  who  have  made  it  the  whole  of  their 
spiritual  life  experience  rude  shocks  and  cruel  suffer- 
ings. Still,  in  general,  it  can  be  said  that  the  Voltairian 
spirit  has  disappeared.  There  is  a  special  variety  of  it 
confined  to-day  to  some  fanatics  of  free  thought,  and 
unhappily  to  the  lower  orders.  There  has  been  uttered 
such  a  prodigious  quantity  of  nonsense  in  the  name  of 
free  thought,  that  those  who  pride  themselves  on  culture 
dread  to  be  suspected  of  it.  But  it  begins  to  be  under- 
stood that  religion  is  the  chief  thing  to  the  individual 
and  to  society,  and  not  an  imposture  or  disease.  We 
are  moving  upward ;  in  the  chapter  which  we  call  "  The 
Paths  of  To-morrow,"  we  shall  have  the  pleasure  of 
pointing  out  a  new  current  in  that  direction. 

It  is  natural  that  the  class  of  youth  which  gives 
itself  to  religious  study  as  a  vocation  or  career  should 
occupy  an  exceptional  position.  We  will  content  our- 
selves by  noting  some  drifts  of  thought  in  it.  The 
first  distrusts  the  modern  spirit  in  general,  and  in- 
trenches itself  in  the  traditions  of  its  respective  churches ; 
it  can  perhaps  be  classed  as  reactionary.  Another, 
stirred  to  its  depths  by  contemporary  negations,  swerves 
in  their  direction,  and  little  by  little  loses  sight  of 


58 


YOUTH. 


spiritual  realities,  and  despairing  of  saving  anything 
from  tradition  and  faith,  is  finally  engulfed  in  doubt. 
The  third  clears  itself  laboriously  a  road  toward  a  new 
belief,  where  the  past  is  joined  to  the  conquests  and 
necessities  of  the  present.  By  this  small  number, 
unsparing  toward  self  and  lovers  of  truth  and*  justice, 
is  worked  out  the  interesting  evolution  of  the  hour 
from  which  shall  go  forth  the  religious  thought  of 
to-morrow. 

Here  as  everywhere,  alas !  in  too  great  numbers  are 
the  lukewarm,  the  slothful,  and  the  clever,  who  go 
whither  the  wind  and  impulse  drive  them. 


MORAL  ORIENTATION. 


59 


CHAPTER  111. 


MORAL  ORIENTATION. 


I F  such  be  the  situation  in  the  domain  of  the  intellect, 
^  what  is  it  in  the  domain  of  morals  ?  It  is  in  vain 
that  we  try  to  separate  the  idea  of  morality  from  the 
intellect.  There  is  no  such  thing  as  an  independent 
morality.  Nothing  in  man  is  independent  of  the  sum 
total  of  human  tendencies.  Each  is  conditioned  on  an- 
other,  and  is  reciprocally  affected.  At  a  certain  epoch 
bold  spirits  flattered  themselves  that  they  had  suspended 
morality  in  space.  They  suppressed  faith  to  maintain 
morality.  They  believed  in  morality,  and  transformed 
it  into  a  dogma.  Good,  evil,  and  the  rights  of  men 
were  to  them  the  supports  of  the  world.  They  were 
both  wrong  and  right,  —  right  in  admitting  that  the 
moral  world  has  its  eternal  laws,  discovered  and  rati- 
fied by  conscience,  and  better  discerned  little  by  little  by 
humanity  in  its  slow  ascent  toward  the  light ;  wrong 
in  admitting  that  conscience  can  communicate  with 
reality  if  the  intellect  is  declared  useless.  If  a  man  is  to 
a  certain  extent  incapable  of  knowing  the  truth,  he  is 
also  incapable  of  distinguishing  good  from  evil.  If 
the  reason,  if  dogma,  which  is,  after  all,  the  expression 
which  the  intellect  tries  to  give  to  the  higher  realities,  are 
not  empty  hallucinations,  —  if  they  do  not  include  under 


60 


YOUTH. 


a  logical  or  symbolic  form  portions  of  that  which  is,  — 
conscience  herself  also  is  powerless.  The  conclusion 
which  we  have  drawn  is  the  logical  one.  The  destruc- 
tion of  moral  principles  has  corresponded,  first  and  last, 
with  the  destruction  of  general  ideas.  This  age  has 
not,  like  some  others,  known  brilliant  personalities  who 
represent  in  the  eyes  of  the  young  the  epitome  of  a 
whole  age,  and  who  have  been  to  them,  from  their  chairs 
in  the  universities,  a  note  of  inspiration  and  a  general 
watchword.  There  are,  however,  professors  outside  the 
universities  to  fill  this  mission ;  but,  alas !  of  a  different 
character.  These  leaders  of  the  day  are  writers,  more 
particularly  of  romances,  who  have  most  broadly  assim- 
ilated the  realistic  conception  of  the  universe,  and  are 
now  among  the  professors  of  fatalism.  More  positive 
than  the  scholars,  as  are  those  who  take  their  knowledge 
at  second  hand,  they  have  knocked  together,  out  of  the 
rudimentary  ideas  of  an  infant  physiology,  a  complete 
psychology  and  a  complete  sociology.  Making  pre- 
tence of  an  absolute  positivism,  they  have  everything 
divided,  weighed,  and  measured.  Imperturbably,  hav- 
ing cut,  as  they  think,  the  human  heart  into  thin  slices 
as  others  have  cut  and  photographed  the  brain,  they 
expose  it  in  detail,  demonstrating  its  mechanism,  and 
labelling  its  fibres.  Their  writings,  in  which  they  say 
with  so  much  skill  and  assurance  the  most  untrust- 
worthy things,  become  fountain-heads.  After  the 
vulgarizers  of  the  first  degree  come  those  of  the  second, 
the  third,  the  tenth,  each  more  positive  than  the  last. 
Youth  has  read  and  accepted  much  of  this  literature, 
which  seems  to  it  the  final  utterance  of  science  applied 


MORAL  ORIENTATION. 


61 


to  humanity.  At  this  very  moment,  notwithstanding 
certain  new  and  favourable  indications,  it  is  strongly 
intrenched  among  the  mass.  Not  only  have  liberty, 
responsibility,  good  and  evil  in  the  old  acceptation  of  the 
term,  no  more  meaning,  but  all  the  individual  respon- 
sibility of  man  in  his  destiny  is  considered  problem- 
atical. Some  deny  it  peremptorily.  We  hear  fluent 
discussions  on  unconsciousness,  irresponsibility,  heredity, 
crimes  of  the  passions,  — ail  things  which  should  be 
treated  with  the  greatest  reserve  from  their  gravity  and 
privacy,  yet  which  circulate  in  young  heads,  as  the  doc- 
tors circulated  in  our  veins  a  certain  German  lymph  be- 
fore knowing  whether  it  were  not  the  worst  of  poisons. 
There  has  resulted  from  this  an  ethical  condition  es- 
pecially distressing  and  dangerous  at  the  time  when  are 
formed  those  traits  of  character  which  always  remain 
in  our  moral  physiognomy.  No  one  can  deny  that 
the  feeling  of  responsibility,  that  basis  of  individual 
conduct,  has  been  seriously  weakened. 

Nevertheless,  the  point  of  view  of  an  outspoken  ma- 
terialistic morality  is  left  behind,  and  moral  ideas  have 
passed  through  a  still  more  perilous  phase  to  acquaint- 
ance with  dilettanteism  and  scepticism ;  thus  paralleling 
the  movement  in  the  domain  of  the  intellect.  We  have 
undergone  successively  all  these  dislocations.  After  nega- 
tion, brutal,  curt,  and  self-confident,  has  come  the  period 
of  indifference,  of  doubt,  and*  at  last  of  dispassionate 
curiosity.  Why  deny  rather  than  affirm?  What  do 
we  know  about  it  ?  To  question  oneself  as  to  whether 
things  are  good  or  bad  is  as  puerile  as  to  question  whether 
they  are  true  or  false.    A  superior  mind  does  not  trouble 


I 


62 


YOUTH. 


itself  with  such  trivialities.  It  looks  on  at  moral  pheno- 
mena, whether  objective  or  subjective  ;  it  judges  neither 
itself  nor  any  one  else,  and  wraps  itself  in  a  vague 
sentiment  which  is  universal  good-will  or  universal  in- 
difference, we  cannot  tell  which.  One  of  these  minds, 
freed  from  those  trivialities  for  which  so  many  poor, 
brave  martyrs  have  already  died  and  are  still  dying, 
said :  "  We  owe  the  gospel  a  great  debt  of  gratitude  ; 
for  in  purifying  our  conscience  it  has  given  to  sin  all 
the  attraction  of  a  forbidden  fruit."  Others,  speaking 
of  the  most  heart-breaking  phases  of  immorality  and 
decay,  say :  "  The  times  grow  interesting  and  amusing. 
The  most  diverting  follies  offer  themselves  in  crowds, 
for  our  indulgent  curiosity."  It  is  useless  to  insist 
further  on  a  thing  known  of  the  whole  world.  Our 
intellectual  youth,  according  to  its  age,  its  degree  of 
culture,  the  special  career  to  which  it  destines  itself,  has 
passed  more  or  less  through  all  the  stages  we  note,  and 
notwithstanding  the  incessant  modifications  which  are  the 
sign  of  a  restless  and  investigative  age,  it  offers  examples 
of  all  the  states  of  mind  through  which  its  favourite 
authors  have  passed. 


This  twofold  dislocation,  intellectual  and  moral,  of 
which  we  are  speaking,  has  resulted  in  weakening  the 
perception  of  reality  and  in  lessening  activity. 

Let  us  speak  now  of  the  first.  The  perception  of  the 
real  consists  in  seeing  thoroughly  what  one  sees,  in 
feeling  thoroughly  what  one  feels,  in  understanding 
thoroughly  what  one  understands,  in  interesting  one- 
self and  taking  part,  in  believing  that  a  thing  actually 


MORAL  ORIENTATION. 


63 


exists :  there  is  no  better  phrase  to  express  my  thought 
than  this.  To  believe  that  a  thing  actually  exists  —  be 
it  the  establishment  of  a  fact,  material,  intellectual,  or 
moral,  a  colour,  a  perfume,  a  good  glass  of  wine,  or  a 
good  action  —  is  the  sign  of  perfect  health  and  vital 
integrity.  All  physical  or  moral  perturbations  diminish 
this  parent  faculty ;  but  it  is  weakened,  above  all,  when 
by  reason  of  turning  things  over  and  over,  analyzing 
them  from  every  point  of  view,  distrusting  them 
entirely,  "  looking  for  noon  at  fourteen  o'clock,"  and 
juggling  with  our  thoughts,  our  feelings,  and  our  con- 
sciences, we  inflict  on  ourselves  a  kind  of  vertigo  of 
our  whole  being.  It  is  absolutely  contrary  to  nature 
that  man's  intelligence  or  conscience  can  look  at  pros 
and  cons  without  being  interested  more  in  one  than  the 
other.  It  is  fatally  unsettled  by  all  this,  and  through 
adapting  itself  to  all  sorts  of  contraries  becomes  de- 
formed and  puerile.  It  is  natural  that  man  should 
interest  himself  in  what  passes  within  him,  not  as 
though  it  were  an  idle  pastime,  but  a  fixed  and  im- 
portant fact.  He  must  put  himself  into  it ;  he  must 
be  it.  Otherwise  he  retains  no  more  impressions  of 
what  he  has  received  than  a  mirror.  He  loses  at  the 
outset  the  perception  of  reality,,  the  right  of  good 
sense.  He  loses,  also,  reverence,  which  is  our  way  of 
estimating  reality.  The  dilettante,  the  sceptic,  the 
sophist,  lose  reverence.  All  their  politeness,  all  their 
smiles  at  phenomena,  are  only  a  form  of  contempt. 
But  he  who  loses  reverence  for  things  loses  still  more 
that  for  words,  which  are  only  the  reflections  of  things. 
He  will  juggle  with  words  as  well  as  ideas.    Where, 


64 


YOUTH. 


then,  is  truth  ?  If  words  are  no  more  to  be  depended 
on,  in  what  shall  we  trust  ?  We  shall  be  among  people 
who  think  it  as  intellectual  to  change  their  words  as 
their  ideas,  and  convert  them  endlessly.  From  this 
simulated  world  this  will  pass  rapidly  into  life.  Our 
society,  old  and  young,  begins  to  be  greatly  affected  by 
lack  of  reverence  and  lack  of  truth.  One  has  only  to 
look  at  the  press,  that  ugly  photograph  of  our  world, 
to  see  by  a  thousand  examples  to  what  abuse  speakers 
and  writers  can  descend  when,  in  the  entire  absence  of 
fixed  principles  to  regulate  judgment  and  conduct, 
words  are  only  the  shadow  of  a  shade.  In  truth,  the 
interest  which  attaches  itself  to  these  chameleons  who 
change  their  colour  at  their  pleasure,  declare  black 
white,  and  present  a  fact  favourably  or  unfavourably  at 
will,  is  for  youth  a  most  detestable  example.  To  have 
but  one  colour  and  one  view  of  a  question  is  monoto- 
nous; it  shows  a  mind  without  resource.  He  who 
knows  how  to  live  has  many  strings  to  his  bow,  and 
can  duplicate,  triplicate,  and  multiply  himself.  Old- 
fashioned  duplicity  is  only  child's  play,  in  comparison 
with  that  of  men  who  form  by  themselves  alone  an 
anonymous  society,  of  which  no  member  is  responsible. 
All  this  holds  together  and  follows  like  the  links  of  a 
chain  or  the  cogs  of  a  gear.  But  we  have  not  done. 
After  the  disintegration  of  the  right  appreciation  of 
things,  comes  the  disintegration  of  activity  and  energy, 
as  an  inevitable  sequence.  When,  passing  through 
negation,  uncertainty,  instability,  incoherence,  and  in- 
tellectual and  moral  gymnastics,  we  have  reached  the 
highest  point  in  the  unreal,  ideas  lose  all  force.    A 


MORAL  ORIENTATION. 


65 


certain  fixity  of  thought  is  necessary  to  produce  action ; 
the  man  must  be  identified  with  his  ideas.    Action  is 
incompatible  with  too  great  mobility  of  mind.     A 
mind  which  vibrates  again  and  again,  and  always  with 
equal  interest  in  every  impression,  is  like  a  field  which 
is  reploughed  and  resown  every  week.    There  is  no 
need  to  trouble  about  the  harvest.    Each  labour  de- 
stroys the  last.    But  not  only  is  the  will  sterilized ; 
step  by  step  we  come  to  despise  real  life  and  action. 
Nothing  is  more  alluring  than  this  perpetual  sloughing 
of  the  inner  man,  on  which  we  have  our  eye  fixed  as 
on  a  kaleidoscope.      The  world  of  action  is  a  grosser 
plane,   where  men   of  limited  abilities  are  engaged. 
"  The  characteristics  of  the  most  admired  among  men 
of  action  are  at  bottom  only  mediocre."    In  formulating 
this  prodigious  maxim  Monsieur  Renan  has  expressed 
the  views  of  many  contemporaries,  especially  the  young, 
whether  distinguished  or  not.    It  may  be  objected  to 
these  dainty  thinkers,  that  man  is  always  mediocre  to 
some  other  man.     A  good  soldier,  I  fancy,  would  be  a 
mediocre  comedian,  a  skilled  prize-fighter  a  mediocre 
acrobat;  and,  judged  by  one  of  those  examples  of  con- 
tortion  which  are  called  men-serpents,  even  Milo  of 
Crotona  would  be  mediocre. 

The  will  becomes  atrophied  when  belief  is  gone.  To 
persuade  a  person  that  he  is  incapable  is  to  make  him  act 
as  an  incapable.  How  many  young  children  richly  en- 
dowed  have  had  their  wits  blunted  and  annihilated  by 
teachers  who  always  treated  them  as  fools !  By  con- 
tinual  snubbing  and  discouraging,  one  ends  by  making 
them  self -distrustful.     It  is  the  same  with  all  human 


\ 


66 


YOUTH. 


aptitudes.  The  will  has  been  subjected  to  deplorable 
influences  in  our  day,  whose  ill-omened  aggregations 
have  resulted  in  weakening  and  enervating  it.  One 
of  these  destructive  influences  is  the  wind  of  fatalism 
which  has  blown  over  us.  Why  exert  oneself  to 
struggle?  There  is  no  individual  initiative.  An  in- 
contestible  necessity  rules  the  soul  and  the  world.  To 
reform  self,  to  fight  the  passions,  the  besetting  sins,  or 
to  rise  against  the  evils  of  society,  is  folly.  Leave  all 
that  for  the  poor  in  spirit.  Leave  to  them  their  inno- 
cent craze  of  getting  themselves  burned  and  crucified 
for  the  good  of  others;  but  pray  let  us  not  imitate 
them!    Ideas  like  these  are  poison  to  youth. 

It  is  in  the  order  of  things  for  the  impressions  of  its 
age  to  be  lively  and  wholesome,  for  youth  to  take  hold 
of  a  thing  impetuously,  to  create  for  itself  an  ideal,  to 
be  full  of  enthusiasm  for  noble  deeds  and  noble  char- 
acters, to  act  with  that  ardour  which  has  made  us  love 
even  its  exaggerations  and  imprudences.  But  all  this 
has  greatly  changed.  In  place  of  the  dishevelled  heads 
of  old,  symbolic  of  so  many  eccentricities,  we  now  see 
locks  neatly  brushed  over  brows  that  have  done  with 
all  illusion.  Our  best  youth  seems  so  reserved,  so 
hesitating,  that  some  think  it  too  wise.  Without 
doubt  we  should  here  make  great  allowance  for  cir- 
cumstances. Even  without  the  problems  of  intellect 
and  morals,  which  they  have  to  face,  there  remain  on 
its  hands  many  serious  causes  for  anxiety.  But  it  is  no 
less  true  that  the  intellectual  and  moral  orientation  of 
the  last  generations  is  of  a  kind  to  paralyze  action.  It 
is  a  double  misfortune  when  it  introduces  itself  in  an 


MORAL  ORIENTATION, 


67 


epoch  like  this.  When  we  consider  the  life  which 
awaits  our  youth,  the  labours  and  efforts  which  it 
ought  to  produce,  we  are  seized  with  an  invincible 
hatred  of  those  doctrines  of  nothingness  which  have 
been  for  so  many  years  the  greater  part  of  its  nour- 
ishment. Enough  of  negations!  enough,  above  all 
of  jugglers  and  poseurs!  Give  us  men  of  faith  and 
action,  of  love  and  hate,  with  a  clear-seemg  eye,  a 
breast  that  throbs,  a  vigorous  arm ;  men  who,  emanci- 
pated from  idle  fancies  and  the  empty  din  of  words, 
are  silent,  and  putting  their  hands  to  the  plough,  drive, 
as  their  witness,  a  straight  furrow  in  the  field  of  hfe. 


6S 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 

QUESTIONS  of  an  intellectual  and  moral  character 
are  not  the  only  ones  that  urge  themselves  upon 
our  youth.  We  might  even  say  that  the  greater  number 
are  entirely  outside  their  pale,  —  all  the  youth  of  the 
people,  for  instance,  to  whom  these  things  exist  only 
vaguely.  We  shall  take  occasion  to  speak  of  this  class. 
But  even  among  studious  youth  these  questions  do  not 
concern  the  majority ;  and  the  minority,  troubled  and 
occupied  with  the  grave  problems  of  the  day,  finds  it- 
self broken  in  upon  by  the  practical.  Outside  the 
sphere  of  universities,  surrounding  it  as  the  waves  do 
an  island,  stretches  the  great  school  of  life. 

To  investigators  and  thinkers,  as  well  as  to  those 
whom  research  appalls  or  does  not  interest,  and  who 
make  themselves  a  summary  of  philosophy  from  crumbs 
picked  up  at  hazard,  the  world  of  reality  is  that  which 
demands  attention  and  imposes  its  conditions  and  its 
example.  Theories  of  philosophy,  systems  of  morality, 
and  religious  doctrines  are  one  thing;  life  is  quite 
another.  Its  lessons  are  more  powerful  than  theories, 
for  good  or  evil.  That  which  passes  in  politics,  in 
finance,  in  the  trades,  in  the  daily  come  and  go  of  the 
world,  the  relations  between  comrades  and  friends,  the 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


69 


I 


family  relations,  —  all  these  cannot  fail  to  influence 
growing  minds.  They  are,  too,  moulded  by  party 
spirit,  or  at  least  influenced  by  it.  Youth  is  a  nursery 
where  the  future  is  growing.  It  is  right  and  fair  for  it 
to  take  a  hand  in  what  is  passing,  and  to  try  to  develop 
itself  in  the  right  direction.  This  direction  for  men  in 
the  battle  of  life  is  their  own.  In  the  midst  of  their 
struggles  they  look  to  the  future  and  scan  it  for  help. 
An  action  so  direct  and  so  energetic  as  to  amount  almost 
to  moral  violence  often  results. 

This  irruption  of  life  into  the  mind  of  youth  makes 
itself  felt,  especially  in  questions  of  the  future.     From 
day  to  day  the  number  of  young  men  embracing  prac- 
tical careers  increases,  and  these  grow  more  and  more 
crowded.    As  a  result  of  this  the  desire  of  success  be- 
comes so  pressing  as  to  dominate  everything.     It  is  a 
preparation  on  a  small  scale  for  the  grand  struggle  for 
existence  which  goes  on  everywhere  in  the  field  of 
economics.    It  is  difficult  to  think  of    anything  else 
when  one  has  entered  this  treadmill  of  material  inter- 
ests.   But  even  those  whose  studies  do  not  bring  them 
daily  face  to  face  with  figures  and  economics,  and  who 
are  preparing  for  the  liberal  professions,  cannot  escape 
the  cares  of  the  morrow.    Material  life,  and  all  that 
combination  of  complications  and  needs  which  it  brings, 
forces  itself  on  their  attention,  and  intermingles  con- 
stantly with  the  ideas  which  they  form  of  men  and 
things.   The  adage  primo  vivere,  deinde  pUlosophari  is 
one  of  those  to  which  the  young  man  of  to-day  accus- 
toms himself  in  spite  of  himself. 
The  desire  of  success  is  that  legitimate  ambition  of 

/ 


70 


YOUTH. 


every  man  to  take  his  place  in  the  world  and  secure  his 
livelihood.  It  is  the  duty  of  a  young  man  of  sound 
mind  to  concern  himself  with  this ;  and  the  position  of 
him  whom  fortune  raises  above  these  petty  worries  is 
not  without  serious  drawbacks.  But  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  a  desire  for  success  subordinated  to 
the  interests  of  knowledge  and  conscience,  in  fine,  to  a 
higher  end,  and  the  same  desire  when  it  is  the  only 
guide  and  only  objective  point.  The  acuteness  of 
economic  problems,  the  realistic  turn  of  the  mind  of 
the  day,  and  the  mode  of  life  by  which  youth  is  sur- 
rounded, have  destroyed  in  it  the  equilibrium  between 
questions  of  the  ideal  and  the  material.  To  a  large 
number  of  young  men  there  is  but  one  question,  that 
of  success.  Among  these  some  are  modest  and  are 
content  with  little,  others  are  greedy  and  want  a  great 
deal.  To  succeed  is  not  enough ;  it  is  necessary  to  push, 
to  pass  others,  to  rule.  They  come  to  using  teeth  and 
claws  as  hardily  as  the  lower  animals.  They  come 
more  surely  and  more  appropriately  to  using  finesse. 
This  last  method  is  the  one  practised  by  those  we  term 
young  diplomats.  Let  us  hang  up  their  portrait 
here. 

Ambitious  rather  than  needy,  they  despise  the  vulgar 
struggle.  They  prefer  the  tactics  of  the  fox  to  the  fury 
of  the  wolf.  From  this  realistic  age  they  have  learned, 
first  and  foremost,  that  facility  is  necessary  for  success ; 
and  they  have  laid  in  a  stock  of  it.  Their  minds  are  a 
well-stocked  arsenal,  of  which  they  know  how  to  avail 
themselves  at  the  proper  time.  Always  of  the  opinion 
of  whomsoever  they  meet,  and,  according  to  circum- 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


71 


stances,  cheerful  or  grave,  honest  or  dishonest,  they  attack 
men  on  their  weak  side.  Life  for  them  is  a  matter  of 
business,  or  better,  a  chessboard.  Sentiments,  ideas,  in- 
terests of  their  own  as  well  as  others,  are  the  pawns 
which  they  move  dispassionately.  To  be  absorbed  in  any 
one  thing  would  be  ruinous.  What  among  chivalrous 
people  would  be  called  a  mean  action  is  for  them  simply 
cool  cleverness. '  They  are  always  careful  to  cultivate 
those  scruples  in  others  whose  absence  in  themselves 
gives  them  their  strength.  These  young  old  men  are 
unimpressionable ;  they  never  laugh,  —  a  laugh  shows  a 
weak  mind,  —  but  they  feel  pity,  and  reserve  it  entirely 
for  their  poor  friends  who,  enamoured  of  sincerity,  wish 
to  own  their  advancement  in  the  world  to  work  and  merit 
only.  Nevertheless  the  young  diplomat  will  do  his  ut- 
most to  supplant  his  good  friends.  He  loses  no  oppor- 
tunity to  push  himself,  to  nurse  his  little  reputation,  to 
call  upon  ladies  of  influence.  He  knows  how  to  adver- 
tise himself  discreetly,  so  as  to  appear  as  if  he  were 
some  one  of  importance.  He  is  announced  as  forth- 
coming on  the  stage  of  the  world,  as  certain  actors  on 
their  tours  put  on  their  placards,  ''  X.  is  coming."  You 
are  quite  sure  that  it  is  not  he  who  placards  himself ;  he 
is  astonished,  and  complains  of  this  hubbub  of  fame 
which  outrages  his  modesty. 

As  to  tender  sentiments,  the  young  diplomat  dis- 
trusts them.  If  he  ever  chances  to  love,  it  will  be  with 
the  head.  The  heart  is  full  of  surprises  which  upset 
all  calculations.    That  must  never  be. 

My  opinion  is  that  he  is  a  man  who  will  make  his 
way  in  the  world.    At  the  least  he  belongs  to  the  class 


72 


YOUTH. 


N 


to  whom  we  begin  to  give  the  title  strong  men.  He 
possesses,  besides,  in  a  high  degree  the  courage  of  sacri- 
fice. For  success  he  will  sacrifice  the  dearest  interests 
—  of  others.  You  will  succeed,  young  sir,  or  I  am  mis- 
taken.   But  1  do  not  envy  you.     Away  with  you ! 


* 
•  * 


Let  us  now  occupy  ourselves  with  the  multitude  — 
alas !  imposing  —  who  swarm  about  the  doors  of  the 
various  callings  and  demand  simply  to  be  placed.  They 
are  told  that  to  secure  a  place  it  is  necessary  to  work, — 
and  to  keep  at  it ;  and  they  set  to  work  and  keep 
at  it  if  necessary.  They  make  a  distinction  between 
what  is  of  use  to  them  and  what  Is  not.  Let  us 
lose  no  time ;  time  is  money.  Their  world  is  not 
Creation ;  it  is  a  programme.  That  the  infinite  should 
perplex  any  one  appears  to  them  contrary  to  nature ; 
their  curiosity  causes  them  no  disturbance.  Theirs  is 
no  wild  ambition ;  they  ask  nothing  better  than  to 
see  all  the  world  succeed  ex  cequoy  —  every  one  must 
live.  It  is  utilitarianism  filtered  through  the  realms  of 
trade  and  commerce  into  that  of  the  office. 

This  point  of  view  is  no  less  wretched  because 
it  is  that  of  a  great  number  of  young  men  who  are 
not  half  bad ;  so  I  will  declare  myself  always  on  the 
side  of  those,  be  they  few  in  number,  who  have  an  ideal. 
Happily  there  are  more  of  them  than  one  would 
suppose. 

Yes,  we  all  agree  that  one  must  live.  To  live  is  the 
great  thing.  We  are  even  so  strongly  of  that  opinion 
that  we  demand  more  than  you,  because  we  do  not  call 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


73 


such  a  life  as  yours  living.  What !  can  the  destiny  of 
man  be  described  as  learning  a  trade  to  gain  his 
bread  ?  Shall  we  come  into  the  world  with  a  heart,  an 
intelligence,  a  conscience,  and  shall  we  attack  mathe- 
matics, history,  medicine,  Latin,  theology,  and  I  know 
not  what  else,  for  what,  —  food  and  clothing  ?  Do 
you  call  that  life  ?  Is  it  for  this  that  you  sweat  over 
algebra,  retorts,  texts,  and  archives ;  that  you  use  the 
scalpel  on  the  dead,  and  the  microscope  to  discover  the 
infinitely  small ;  that  you  pass  examinations  in  the  dog 
days  ? 

It  would  be  better  to  sleep  the  eternal  sleep  in  water, 
fire,  or  under  the  earth,  no  matter  where,  than  to  live 
such  a  life  ;  for,  positively,  it  is  not  worth  the  trouble. 
Man  does  not  live  by  bread  alone.  He  is  not  simply 
an  office-holder,  active  orjetired,  or  any  other  worker 
who  gets  a  salary.  He  is  that,  without  doubt,  —  he  is 
even  compelled  to  work  in  some  fashion  ;  but  for  real 
success  it  is  necessary,  first  of  all,  that  he  should  be  a 
man.  Woe  to  the  society  where  each  one's  aspiration 
is  for  a  livelihood  only !  It  reduces  life  to  inferior  pro- 
portions, making  of  it  a  quarry  of  appetites  or  a  com- 
monplace formality.  We  must  live ;  and  if  we  would 
live  as  men,  we  must  have  as  the  first  thing  an  aim,  a 
love,  a  hate,  —  in  short,  an  ideal.  If  you  do  not  try  to 
find  this  when  you  are  young,  you  will  never  find  it, 
and  you  will  not  know  life.  It  is  on  this  account  that 
a  higher  anxiety  should  dominate  the  anxiety  as  to  a 
career,  not  only  in  the  duties  where  knowledge  and  the 
mind  is  concerned,  but  in  everything.  You  are  study- 
ing philosophy,  history,  the  arts.    Very  good ;  be  first 


74 


YOUTH. 


of  all  a  man,  and  you  will  have  the  stuff  of  which 
philosophers,  historians,  and  artists  are  made.  You 
are  thinking  of  becoming  an  engineer,  a  merchant,  a 
farmer,  a  superintendent  of  works.  Excellent,  if  you 
begin  by  being  men.  If  you  neglect  that,  you  will 
be  only  miserable  slaves  or  oppressors,  according  to 

circumstances. 

Utilitarianism  destroys  man  ;  it  curtails  all  our  con- 
ceptions of  a  practical  life.    For  it  there  is  neither  sen- 
timent, nor  right,  nor  noblesse,  nor  beauty,  nor  holi- 
ness, —  nothing,  in  short,  of  what  is  human;  nothing 
but  figures.    That  which  is  not  worth  money  or  cannot 
earn  it  is,  as  a  rule,  worthless.    This  is  the  most  fright- 
ful error  which  can  overtake  a  man ;  for  that  which  is 
worth  the  most  in  human  life  is  precisely  that  which 
cannot    be  bought  nor  sold.      Therefore  1  consider 
utilitarianism  in  youth  as  a  calamity.    That  so-called 
honest  disposition  of  the  staid  and  selfish  bourgeois 
is  worse  than  all  the  vices.    A  youth  of  the  earth, 
earthy.  Heaven  preserve  us  from  it !    The  beautiful 
name  of  youth  is  unfitting  for  it.    Is  not  youth  made 
up  of  all  the  enthusiasms  and  all  the  ardours  which 
lead  us  to  despise  utilitarianism  ?     To  be  attacked  by 
it  is  to  be  a  prey  to  senility,  to  enter  into  existence 
with  a  mark  of  decrepitude.    As  it  is  worse  to  be  born 
blind  than  to  become  blind,  since  even  the  recollection 
of  light  is  missing ;  so  to  begin  one's  days  with  utilita- 
rianism is  worse  than  to  end  them  with  it,  for  there  re- 
mains at  least  a  reflection  of  higher  things  from  which 
one  has  been  separated  by  the  slow  wear  of  life.    The 
precocious  utilitarian  has  no  souvenirs.    Consequently 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


75 


to  him  everything  is  possible,  even  shame  itself,  pro- 
vided it  pays. 


* 


We  come  now  to  a  field,  little  edifying  but  still  of 
goodly  size,  and  our  train  of  thought  leads  us  to  con- 
sider that  negative  ideal  which  has  laid  hold  of  the  great 
mass  of  our  contemporaries  and  has  only  too  greatly 
affected  our  youth.  I  speak  of  what  I  shall  call  pas- 
sive enjoyment. 

Seeking  passive  enjoyment  is  the  result  of  the 
lowering  of  the  desires,  but  it  is  also  a  result  of  the 
material  comforts  which  progress  has  procured  us. 
Civilization,  while  it  increases  man's  power,  diminishes 
his  need  of  exertion,  habituates  him  to  ease,  and  makes 
him  avoid  hard  labour.  This  result  is  doubtless  incon- 
sistent, since  domination  over  nature  is  to  be  had  only  at 
the  price  of  long  and  painful  exertions.  But  these  exer- 
tions on  the  part  of  some  have  brought  corresponding 
ease  to  others.  If  it  be  true  that  this  age  has  worked  as 
no  other,  it  is  also  true  that  it  has  produced  an  always 
increasing  class  of  privileged  beings,  who  work  very 
little  or  not  at  all. 

Stimulated  by  practical  realism,  which  has  gained  a 
foothold  everywhere,  repose  and  freedom  from  the 
necessity  of  exertion  have  become  the  cherished  dream 
of  a  host  of  men.  An  easy  life,  secure  from  shocks, 
the  life  of  a  man  of  means,  —  how  many  people  have 
this  ambition  for  themselves  and  their  children !  The 
result  of  it  is  a  whole  category  of  jeunesse  dori,  accus- 
tomed to  effeminate  habits,  enamoured  of  a  sedentary 
life,  and  devoted  to  languors  and  idleness  of  body  and 


76 


YOUTH. 


mind.  Like  all  those  who  are  accustomed  to  be  served, 
this  class  of  youth  is  impatient  and  especially  irritable. 
There  are  none  like  those  who  do  not  work,  to  find 
that  others  do  not  work  enough.  Accustomed  to  the 
marvek  of  science  and  industry  by  which  they  live, 
without  knowing  the  pains  they  have  cost,  this  youth 
cannot  wait.  Everything  must  be  done  for  it  quickly  ; 
if  possible,  instantly.  It  has  replaced  juvenile  impetu- 
osity  with  the  nervous  discontent  of  a  little  old  woman. 
Our  accelerated  methods,  our  way  of  forcing  and  out- 
raging nature,  have  created  fictitious  habits.  That  time 
is  needed  for  a  tree  to  grow,  seems  to  some  a  relic  of 
the  old  barbarism  that  progress  has  suppressed.  They 
would  willingly  set  the  pace  of  their  whole  life  at  that 
of  express-trains,  provided  that  in  the  train  they  had 
their  dining  and  sleeping  car.  Thus  is  seen  in  our 
society  a  phenomenon  often  observed  in  families.  Hard- 
working fathers  have  listless  and  even  idle  sons.  It 
is  a  division  of  labour.  The  fathers  work  for  the  sons ; 
the  sons  rest  for  the  fathers. 


*  « 


This  brings  us  very  naturally  to  those  young  men 
whom  1  shall  call  the  Useless  Class.  We  meet  them, 
especially,  in  easy  or  brilliant  circumstances,  — circum- 
stances always  pregnant  with  danger.  It  is  so  much 
more  to  their  honour  if  they  escape  these  perils  by 
energy  and  labour.  The  example  of  many  young  rich 
men  who  are  workers  consoles  us  here  for  the  melan- 
choly spectacle  their  comrades  offer.  We  will  describe 
these  idlers.   They  are  very  solemn.    Their  expression  of 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


77 


countenance  and  their  dres5  —  at  the  same  time  correct 
and  careless  —  bespeak  the  blase  man.  A  look,  like 
that  of  a  pasha  half  asleep,  indicates  that  the  world 
past  and  present  is  for  their  behoof.  Let  us  enter  their 
apartment  and  borrow  the  description  of  Legouve,  —  it 
is  exact :  *'  There  is  nothing  to  sit  on  or  to  sleep  on. 
There  are  only  reclining-chairs,  rocking-chairs,  chairs 
with  cushions,  broad  divans  with  broad  pillows,  wadded 
curtains,  a  fireplace  reinforced  by  hot  air,  a  carpet  thick 
as  a  fleece.  And  what .  implements  for  the  toilet ! 
Am  I  in  the  room  of  a  princess  in  the  Quartier  Breda 
or  of  the  son  of  a  judge  ?  Implements  for  the  hands 
enough  to  make  one  think  himself  in  front  of  a  cut- 
ler's window !  Twenty  flasks  of  different  essences ! 
A  series  of  brushes  as  ingenious  as  complex !  Some 
are  concave,  others  convex.  There  are  long  ones  and 
broad  ones;  there  are  hard  ones  and  soft  ones.  All 
simplicity  in  the  house  has  taken  refuge  in  the  father's 
room,  or  perhaps  in  the  daughter's.  The  same  studied 
elegance  appears  in  the  table.  Truly,  we  did  not  dis- 
dain a  good  dinner  in  the  old  days,  and  knew  how  to 
enjoy  a  good  bottle  of  wine,  but  we  were  not  learned 
as  to  all  its  details.  To-day  young  men  are  gourmands, 
delicate  of  taste  and  hard  to  please.  They  have  made 
love  of  comfort  into  a  dilettanteism.  *  Where  is  the 
harm  ? '  some  one  asks.  The  harm  is  that  one  cannot 
work  in  a  reclining-chair.  The  harm  is  that  one  be- 
comes a  slave  to  a  good  carpet  and  rich  food.  The 
harm  is  that  one  hesitates  to  undertake  a  journey,  rough 
but  advantageous,  because  one  cannot  take  with  one 
all  the  appurtenances  of  one's  toilet.    The  harm  is  that 


i 


7B 


YOUTH. 


at  last  a  man  comes  to  sacrifice  his  conscience  to  his  dear 
comfort,  and  that  in  all  questions  of  marriage,  of  pro- 
fession, of  public  life,— that  is  to  say,  all  questions  of 
the  future,  of  dignity,  of  honour  often,  —  comfort,  the 
tyrant  comfort,  joins  issue  with  the  strictest  duties,  and 
comes  of!  victorious  because  it  calls  itself  by  a  name 
more  powerful  even  than  that  of  passion,  the  name  of 
habit.  Yes,  habit,  that  pale  companion  of  old  age,  that 
melancholy  sister  of  folly,  —  habit  rules  many  young 
men  as  love  never  ruled  them.  It  causes  a  thousand 
just  reproaches  from  father  to  son,  resented  in  a 
thousand  bitter  replies ;  from  it  finally  come  a  thousand 
endless  discussions  on  that  real  battle-field  of  the  family, 
the  question  of  money." 

And  since  what  we  have  quoted  brings  us  to  the 
subject,  let  us  note,  in  passing,  a  great  law  of  the  school 
of  life,  —  that  youth  should  know  the  value  of  money. 
The  great  misfortune  of  parental  wealth  —  above  all, 
when  it  has  been  made  quickly  or  inherited,  and  does  not 
rest  on  a  basis  of  actual  work  —  is  that  the  children  lose 
their  respect  for  money.  To  respect  money  and,  even 
when  one  has  a  great  deal,  not  to  spend  it  injudiciously, 
is  no  ordinary  quality.  It  is  one  of  the  most  complex 
of  social  qualities ;  for  it  supposes  not  only  conscience, 
tact,  in  short,  the  feeling  that  possession  is  a  social  func- 
tion, but  it  demands  besides  the  wisdom  of  experience. 
To  possess  this  quality  we  must,  in  a  word,  know  how 
hard  it  is  to  make  money,  and  what  efforts  it  represents. 
He  who  does  not  know  this  despises  it ;  or  if  he  attaches 
any  value  to  it,  it  is  only  for  the  pleasure  it  procures.  1 
dwell  on  this  point  in  the  interest  of  a  higher  morality, 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


79 


and  not  —  Heaven  help  me !  —  to  serve  the  selfishness  of 
some  parents  to  whom  evil  consists  in  spending  money, 
and  good  in  saving  it,  and  who  measure  the  morality 
of  their  children  by  their  parsimony.  Vice  is  ex- 
pensive,  that  is  the  reason  for  avoiding  it ;  virtue  is 
cheap,  it  must  be  cultivated ;  thus  they  cultivate  only 
avarice,  the  most  sordid  of  all  the  vices.  But  let  us 
return  to  the  useless  class  and  not  leave  them.  It  is  not 
at  all  necessary  to  belong  to  the  privileged  class  to  be 
of  the  stuff  of  which  the  useless  are  made. 

This  life  of  royal  idleness  has  so  many  attractions 
that  some  who  are  not  able  to  lead  it  in  luxury  lead  it 
though  they  have  but  a  competence,  or  are  even  in  pov- 
erty. And  this  is  what  these  artificial  parasites  want,  — 
to  lie  down  in  life,  as  a  log  lies  on  the  water ;  to  float 
at  the  caprice  of  the  wave,  to  advance,  recede,  rise,  and 
fall,  according  to  the  accident  of  the  moment ;  pro- 
vided that  they  do  this  alone.  In  the  midst  of  the  con- 
flicting  influences  that  move  society,  amidst  the  labours, 
the  studies,  the  sufferings  of  others,  they  possess  the 
serene  indifference  of  those  who  are  fed,  clothed, 
amused,  and  thankless  to  boot ;  they  allow  themselves 
to  be  drawn  to-day  by  interest,  to-morrow  by  passion, 
anger,  hate,  or  fear,  —  again  by  sensuality  and  the 
coarser  appetites ;  at  times,  for  the  sake  of  agreeable 
change,  they  allow  themselves  to  feel  the  charm  of  vir- 
tue, to  be  lifted  to  the  heights  of  inspiration  in  the  in- 
tervals between  their  wallowings  in  the  mire.  A  noble 
life  this !  When  we  attack  these  passive  creatures  and 
exhort  them  to  regain  their  manhood,  we  must  expect 
to  be  received  with  pity.    The  best  that  one  can  hope 


80 


YOUTH. 


on  the  most  favourable  occasion  is  to  have  them 
answer,  "  What  will  you  have  ?  I  was  made  so,  —  I 
cannot  help  it."  Perhaps,  if  they  think  you  worth  the 
exertion,  they  will  quote  the  words  of  Montaigne,  "  1 
do  no  harm !  I  use  only  my  own.  If  I  am  a  fool,  it 
is  at  my  own  expense  and  is  no  one's  business,  for  my 
folly  dies  with  me  and  has  no  successor."  But  if  the 
occasion  is  not  favourable,  have  a  care.  They  will  be- 
come furious,  like  a  beast  disturbed  in  his  rest  or  his 
fits  of  passion.  To  have  his  ways  of  life  upset,  how 
can  he  bear  it  ?  If  there  is  a  contemptible  act  in  the 
world,  it  is  to  worry  people  who  without  trying  to  in- 
jure any  one  let  themselves  glide  gently  down  the  hill 
of  life.  But  I  am  taking  a  great  deal  of  trouble  for  a 
class  who  give  themselves  so  little. 


* 

*  * 


And  yet  my  heart  cries  **  Beware  "  to  many  who 
without  being  useless  let  themselves  fall  into  an  easy 
life.  It  is  like  being  caught  by  a  machine  from  which 
you  barely  escape  alive.  An  easy  life  begets  cowardice. 
Cowardice  begets  lies  and  double  dealing.  Expedients 
must  be  resorted  to,  and  direct  ways  be  abandoned. 
Once  entered  on  this  life,  the  most  clear-sighted  is  lost. 

In  particular,  the  passion  for  play  must  be  specified 
as  one  of  the  saddest  snares  that  our  youth  fall  into. 
It  gambles  much  too  often.  It  is  one  of  the  diseases  of 
the  times,  one  of  the  forms  of  its  restlessness.  All 
classes  of  society  bet  on  the  races,  and  play  among 
themselves,  sometimes  for  large  stakes,  sometimes  for 
small.  To  increase  one's  goods  or  one's  gains  by  a 
stroke  of  chance,  or  even,  in  extreme  cases,  to  demand 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


81 


of  chance  that  it  will  support  one  without  work,  is  too 
often  attempted.  How  many  people  fall  asleep  at 
night,  uttering  the  name  of  the  horse  on  which  they 
have  bet !  Not  so  outwardly  objectionable  as  drunken- 
ness or  debauchery,  play  is  one  of  the  most  subtle 
forms  of  immorality.  It  makes  one  of  a  whole  group  of 
phenomena,  and  may  perhaps  be  considered  as  a  symp- 
tom of  profound  psychological  trouble.  A  man  who 
plays  loses  his  hold  on  reality.  The  simple  and  laborious 
sequence  of  events  escapes  him.  He  is  merely  an  ad- 
venturer. Like  the  people  of  the  year  one  thousand,  he 
expects  that  the  touch  of  a  wand  will  transform  the 
world.  Why  then  should  he  work  ?  Soon,  Fortune  will 
come  of  herself.  While  waiting,  he  will  borrow  or 
take.  Play,  in  truth,  makes  a  man  lose  his  head,  and 
renders  possible  acts  which  without  it  would  have  been 
impossible.  Thereafter  he  floats  with  the  current.  Am 
1  not  right  in  crying,  "  Beware !  " 

I  may  add  that  play  kills  conversation,  one  of  the 
great  charms  and  great  needs  of  youth.  It  is  an  "  iso- 
lator." It  is  a  juggler  in  whose  hands  the  world  of 
men  and  things  disappears. 

In  one  of  the  most  beautiful  spots  in  Switzerland, 
where  one  can  but  regret  the  short  time  one  has  for 
admiration,  I  came  upon  two  young  tourists.  They 
were  about  half-way  up  a  most  delightful  mountain, 
and  appeared  to  be  resting.  As  I  saw  them  from  a 
distance,  seated  with  their  backs  to  the  landscape,  I 
could  not  account  for  it ;  but  as  I  came  near,  all  was 
plain,  —  they  were  playing  cards.  Four  hours  later, 
as  I  returned,  I  found  them  in  the  same  place,  still 


fi2' 


YOUTH. 


playing.     Night  was  falling ;  returning  to  the  hotel, 
they  finished  their  game  there. 


* 
»  » 


There  is  still  an  important  subject,  ~  important  al- 
ways and  everywhere,  but  more  serious  in  the  case 
of  youth  than  in  that  of  their  elders.    I  refer  to  love. 
It  is  through  it  that  the  general  state  of  society  can 
best  be  seen,  and  the  qualities  and  defects  of  its  con- 
ception of  life.     Tell  me  how  you  love  and  I  will  tell 
you  who  you  are.    The  character  of  an  epoch  is  meas- 
ured by  the  respect  with  which  it  surrounds  love.    The 
criterion  of  a  man's  character  is  not  his  creed,  religious, 
intellectual,  or  moral ;  it  is  the  degree  of  respect  he  has 
for  woman.    When  he  loses  faith  and  hope,  he  under- 
values life.    If  he  seize  upon  it  as  the  one  thing  cer- 
tain, which  he  must  make  use  of  quickly,  he  will  be- 
little it  by  that  very  act ;  and  his  stunted  conception 
of  the  world  and  man,  the  absence  of  the  ideal,  of  true 
poetry,  of  energy,  —  all  these  will  find  an  echo  in  his 
way  of  loving  as  an  eloquent  and  direct  commentary. 
Love  is  surely  immortal,  and  will  always  be  reborn 
from  its  ashes.    Though  dragged  in  the  mud,  a  day 
will  come  when  it  will  rise  younger  and  more  beautiful 
than  ever.    But  it  is  no  less  true  that  individually  we 
can  destroy  in  us  its  freshness.    What  then  is  our  posi- 
tion as  to  love  ?    How  does  our  youth  love,  how  does 
it  speak  of  love,  how  does  it  sing  of  it  > 

Alas,  it  can  easily  be  shown  that  on  this  subject  our 
youth  is  extremely  reserved.  We  touch  now  a  pain- 
ful spot.  Distrust,  scepticism,  and  domestic  shipwreck 
are  everywhere.    It  is  the  fashion  for  youth  to  discuss 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


83 


love  like  the  most  disillusioned  of  men.  It  would  seem 
as  if  it  were  among  the  good  old  things  that  have  dis- 
appeared, and  that  we  have  come  too  late  into  a  world 
too  old  to  experience  it  again. 

As  a  general  rule,  what  is  lacking  is  respect  for 
woman,  — that  cult  of  woman  I  might  call  it,  which  is 
the  sign  of  vital  integrity.  She  is  no  longer  considered, 
as  in  certain  asi^^^gfe-epochs,  a  being  impure  and  hurt- 
ful, whose  presence  we  should  fly.  On  the  contrary, 
she  is  thought  desirable,  but  at  the  same  time  hiiarre, 
and,  in  the  long  run,  in  the  way.  She  is  a  means  of 
pleasure,  provided  we  do  not  have  to  share  her  society 
and  that  we  avoid  any  ties.  The  chains  of  love  are  re- 
placed to  advantage  by  free  love.  In  short,  what  we 
fluently  call  love  resembles  true  love  no  more  than  the 
constellation  of  the  bear  resembles  the  animal  of  that 
name. 

When  real  love  exists,  and  it  can  never  die,  it  prefers 
to  conceal  itself.  It  is  therefore  rare  to  meet  love-songs 
composed  by  men  still  young,  and  still  more  rare  to 
have  this  kind  of  poetry  sung  in  society. 

We  no  longer  hear  the  old  love-songs  of  our  national 
repertoire.  Instead,  the  loves  of  the  vulgar  herd  are 
sung  and  resung  to  satiety.  The  Venus  of  the  gods  is 
less  praised  than  her  inferior  namesakes.  It  is  impossi- 
ble for  me  to  refrain  from  saying  here  what  I  think  of 
these  ditties  of  the  times.  But  my  remarks  do  not  apply 
to  any  author  in  particular.  It  is  the  class  of  songs  I 
have  in  mind,  the  way  they  come  to  notice,  and  those 
who  sing  them  over  and  over  until  an  outsider  would 
imagine  that  there  are  no  others. 


(>yl/LZXu^ 


til 

k 


». 


a 


S4 


YOUTH. 


I  find,  then,  in  the  songs  most  in  vogue  at  the  moment, 
especially  where  love  is  the  subject,  an  after-taste  of 
senile  libertinism.  This  savours  of  decadence  and  men- 
tal derangement ;  and  when  this  same  note  is  continued 
through  song  after  song,  and  again  in  similar  produc- 
tions is  re-echoed  everywhere,  it  becomes  fearfully 
tiresome.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  reproach  this  kind  of 
literature  with  its  immorality.  My  intentions  must  not 
be  misunderstood.  Perhaps  some  one  will  accuse  me 
of  being  splenetic,  a  kill-joy,  a  dried-up  philosopher, 
thus  assuming  for  himself  the  beautiful  role  of  one 
who  demands  for  youth  the  right  to  amuse  itself.  I 
myself  demand  that  right  and  proclaim  it.  Provided 
the  company  be  such  that  one  can  sit  in  it  with  self- 
respect,  no  one  shall  sing  more  lustily  than  I,  Gaudeamus 
igitur ;  and  when  we  come  to  the  idimous  pereat  couplet, 
where  the  jovial  uproar  is  apt  to  arouse  the  neighbours, 
I  will  shout  with  all  my  might,  pereat  diaholiis  .  .  . 
atque  irrisores.  I  will  think  at  the  same  time  of  what 
really  kills  joy,  —  the  deadly  mirth  which  consumes  in 
its  fire  all  that  should  be  sacred,  —  that  spirit  of  scoffing, 
in  short,  which  makes  too  often  the  burden  of  these 
songs.  What !  in  these  days  and  in  this  land,  when  the 
youth  of  a  great  nation  meets  and  wishes  to  sing  of 
love,  shall  these  be  the  songs  that  are  chosen  to  the  ex- 
clusion of  nearly  all  else }  No ;  you  slander  yourselves ! 
You  cherish  better  things  than  these.  It  cannot  be  that 
you  lack  what  is  lacking  in  all  these  productions,  — 
poetry,  genuineness,  freshness,  youth. 

But  1  must  make  haste  to  say  that  youth  is  little  to 
blame  for  the  state  of  things  which  truth  obliges  us  to 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


85 


picture  in  such  sombre  colours.  We  have  left  nothing 
undone  to  bring  it  to  this  state.  Existing  society  has 
grave  faults  with  which  to  reproach  itself.  How  shall 
we  speak  of  the  flippancy  with  which  in  the  family  and 
in  public  love,  chastity,  and  marriage  are  talked  about, 
especially  to  the  young  ?  It  would  seem  as  if  their  ears 
had  been  made  expressly  to  listen  to  jests  and  doubtful 
witticisms.  They  are  given  the  most  pernicious  advice 
in  all  that  concerns  respect  for  woman  and  for  them- 
selves, as  if  all  the  wisdom  of  the  ages  on  this  point  — 
so  dearly  acquired  and  embodied  in  two  or  three  rules 
not  to  be  violated  with  impunity  —  was  only  puerile. 
The  consequences  are  apparent.  In  the  domain  of  love 
our  youth  has  suffered  grievous  wrong.  Its  predeces- 
sors have  left  it  a  baleful  heritage  of  manners  and 
literature.  This  last  in  especial  has  passed  through 
all  degrees  of  moral  laxity  till  it  has  reached  unbridled 
license.  "  Under  the  pretext  of  art  and  truth  to  na- 
ture, the  crudest  licentiousness  is  set  forth  in  books 
for  young  people."  ^  But  books  have  been  outdone. 
Pamphlets  and  broadsides  bid  against  one  another  in 
exciting  curiosity.  How  can  youth  be  exposed  to  such 
influences  without  the  greatest  danger.?  Even  the 
schoolboy  is  contaminated.  When  the  passions  first 
awake  in  him,  he  need  not  seek  immoral  literature. 
It  comes  in  the  way  even  of  him  who  does  not  look 
for  it.  What  kind  of  a  future  is  this  preparing  for  us } 
Is  it  not  time  to  rise  in  the  defence  of  childhood,  the 
family,  love,  youth,  the  springs  of  life,  and  to  hold  out 
a  hand  to  that  valiant  society  for  the  uplifting  of  public 

1  Jules  Lemaiire,  Delhais,  16  mars,  I891. 


1 


S6 


YOUTH. 


morality  which,  after  having  long  preached  in  the  des- 
ert, begins  to  convince  the  least  clear-sighted  of  its 
usefulness  ? 


* 


All  that  we  have  said  has  been  to  show  how  example, 
and  the  habits  with  which  it  is  surrounded,  influence 
youth  in  the  practical  orientation  of  its  conduct,  and 
exercise  on  it  a  pressure  as  strong  and  often  stronger 
than  precepts  and  teaching.  We  have  as  yet  looked  at 
the  question  on  its  negative  side  only.  But  its  positive 
side  is  vast.  Withdrawn  within  the  sacred  grove  of  the 
muses,  in  the  perfect  calm  of  meditation  and  research, 
youth  runs  the  risk  of  becoming  isolated,  and  of  losing 
interest  in  life.  It  is  right  that  it  should  hear  its  echoes, 
and  that  the  great  voice  of  a  struggling  and  suffering 
humanity  should  reach  it.  The  best  corrective  of  theo- 
ries  is  always  a  practical  life.  If  it  be  full  of  dangers, 
of  evil  temptations,  of  pitfalls,  it  is  full  also  of  aus- 
tere instruction  and  healthful  admonition.  Life  has, 
too,  the  great  advantage  over  theories  and  books,  that 
it  is  less  given  to  cross  purposes  and  subtleties.  It  is 
.  real.  It  is  not  a  little  white  or  a  little  black,  according 
to  the  fleeting  interpretation  of  a  fantasy  or  a  calcula- 
tion ;  it  is  graven  in  the  rock  of  reality  ;  it  gnashes  its 
teeth,  cries,  howls,  and  sings :  there  is  blood  in  it,  and 
tears,  and  joy,  and  it  is  likely  that  he  who  witnesses  it 
will  remember  it. 

Never,  perhaps,  has  this  truth  been  better  verified  than 
during  the  last  twenty  years.  All  the  world  knows  the 
condition  of  our  literature  and  of  our  internal  politics. 
The  latter  has  done,  by  certain  deplorable  excesses,  for 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


S7 


the  nation  nearly  what  the  former  has  done  for  the  prin- 
ciples of  thought  and  life.  Party  spirit  is  as  injurious 
to  a  country  as  undue  analysis  is  to  moral  and  intel- 
lectual vitality. 

The  great  danger  of  these  strifes  between  compatriots, 
and  of  that  spirit  of  calumny  and  detraction  which 
has  poisoned  our  public  life,  is  that  they  produce  a 
youth  sceptical  on  the  subject  of  patriotism.  How  has 
this  danger  been  averted  ?  In  the  first  place,  because 
sickening  sights  repel  rather  than  attract,  and  because 
the  follies  of  our  predecessors  often  make  us  thought- 
ful. Evil,  at  a  certain  point,  rouses  the  most  reserved, 
and  makes  them  shake  off  their  indifference ;  for  ex- 
ample, the  wretched  Boulangist  performance  which 
roused  the  whole  student  world.  In  the  next  place, 
because  life  corrects  life,  and  because,  though  the  politi- 
cians have  their  place  noisily  and  broadly  defined, 
there  is  something  beside,  —  it  is  the  great  and  silent 
national  industry.  Side  by  side  with  what  fills  the 
papers,  and  an  unwholesome  publicity  magnifies  and 
announces  to  the  whole  world,  are  the  fruitful  labours 
of  which  little  is  said,  but  which  are  eloquent  in 
themselves. 

The  children  of  this  land  of  France  have  not  seen 
their  country  raise  itself  slowly  during  twenty  years  by 
continuous  efforts  and  persevering  work,  without  per- 
ceiving in  themselves  the  results  of  such  an  example. 
Nothing  is  finer  than  to  see  life  fighting  its  enemies. 
The  weakest  being  who  repairs  his  losses  and  renews  his 
courage  is  interesting.  The  ants  who  rebuild  their  house 
which  the  passing  foot  has  destroyed,  even  the  tree. 


lit 


88 


YOUTH. 


torn  by  the  storm,  which  sends  out  fresh  limbs,  touches 
us  and  wins  our  sympathy.  Still  more  does  the  man 
who,  struck  down,  picks  himself  up,  the  vanquished  na- 
tion which  binds  up  its  wounds,  remakes  its  finances, 
its  army,  its  schools,  its  commerce,  its  industries.  While 
the  negations  of  a  materialistic  science  and  the  theories 
of  writers  lay  before  us  the  weakness  of  the  human 
will,  a  whole  people  at  work  gives  to  these  unhealthy 
theories  a  universal  lie.  While  the  politicians  in  their 
useless  struggles  discredit  liberty  itself,  democratic 
France  brings  to  its  growing  institutions,  to  the  modern 
spirit  in  its  entirety,  the  magnificent  evidence  of  its 
patient  resurrection.  The  heart  of  youth  is  magnani- 
mous. It  could  not  remain  insensible  to  these  real 
proofs.  Out  of  the  depths  of  the  national  life  has 
come  to  it  a  great  life-giving  wind,  which  has  swept 
away  the  miasma  of  theories,  and  the  diseases  whose 
seeds  had  been  sown  by  literature. 


Finally,  life  has  laid  hold  of  youth  in  a  fashion  more 
direct  still  through  its  contribution  to  the  national  de- 
fence. I  consider  that  the  profession  of  arms  is  most 
salutary,  and  is  of  the  greatest  use  to  youth  in  a  thou- 
sand ways.  There  are  indeed  many  things  learned  in 
this  great  school  which  have  become  rare.  Obedience, 
in  the  first  place,  —  an  invaluable  thing,  which  is  not 
met  everywhere,  and  which  is  indispensable  in  a  demo- 
cracy, because  it  is  the  mother  of  all  liberty. 

Equality  next,  which  is  talked  about  so  fluently,  but 
is  so  difficult  to  practise.  Then  exercise,  —  exercise  of 
the  will,  and  physical  exercise.     A  little  discomfort  is  an 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  LIFE. 


89 


excellent  remedy  for  effeminate  tendencies.  There  is  a 
whole  world  of  philosophy  in  the  long  marches,  knap- 
sack on  back,  and  at  the  bottom  of  the  mess-platter.  If 
you  are  not  convinced,  look  at  those  who  return  from 
service.  What  a  clear  eye  they  have,  what  a  bronzed 
skin,  what  sleep,  and  what  an  appetite !  All  the  dilet- 
tanti, all  the  useless,  should  be  sent  to  the  school  of 
war.  These  virile  exercises  would  open  to  them  hori- 
zons hitherto  unknown.  I  will  say  no  more  on  this 
subject,  or  I  shall  get  no  further.  Down  with  milita- 
rism !  long  life  to  the  soldier !  The  true  soldier  is  one 
of  the  most  beautiful  figures  which  humanity  has  pro- 
duced. And  whoever  loves  anything  must  be  a  little 
of  a  soldier,  whether  he  will  or  no.  He  must  have  a 
heart  in  his  body  and  a  sword  in  his  hand. 

1  will  only  mention  in  passing,  as  I  shall  return  to  it 
later  on,  the  salutary  influence  which  social  questions 
begin  to  exercise  on  students  among  the  younger  gener- 
ation. Nowhere  more  than  here  can  they  find  whole- 
some diversion  and  austere  lessons  that  will  rouse 
utilitarians,  men  without  nerve,  and  those  whose  minds 
are  turned  exclusively  to  theorizing. 


Thus  it  is  that  life,  with  its  necessities  and  its  exam- 
ples good  or  bad,  acts  on  youth,-discouraging  it  or  en- 
couraging it  in  turn.  And  this  which  is  true  of  the  great 
world  is  true  also  of  that  microcosm  called  the  fam- 
ily. There  also  those  who  seek  their  way  are  constantly 
at  school.*  Unhappily,  how  many  are  the  wounds,  how 
serious  the  wear  and  tear  and  the  uncertainties  in  those 
intimacies  where  outside  influences  and  the  individual 


Il 


i! 


>. 
\ 

Z 


H 


90 


YOUTH. 


tendencies  which  result  from  them,  all  have  their  echo ! 
The  family  is  in  a  state  of  tension,  and  the  children 
show  it.  An  artificial  life,  a  lack  of  authority  on  one 
hand,  of  respect  on  the  other,  strained  relations  be- 
tween man  and  wife  whose  orientation  is  so  different, 
loosening  of  marital  ties,  lowering  of  domestic  habits, 
the  inroads  of  outside  life  and  even  that  of  the  street 
and  gutter  in  education,  —  the  good  is  there,  no  doubt ; 
but  the  evil  is  so  great,  so  pervasive.  With  its  igno- 
rance of  life  and  its  need  to  be  guided  aright,  how  can 
youth  discern  its  road  among  so  many  dangers !  It  is 
not  surprising  that  it  often  goes  astray.  The  fault  lies, 
above  all,  in  the  situation ;  and  we  shall  have  to  correct 
many  irregularities  before  we  realize  toward  new-comers 
in  life  the  desideratum  contained  in  the  precept  Maxima 
dehetur  pueris  reverentia. 


THE  SHEEP  OF  PANURGE. 


91 


CHAPTER  V. 


THE  SHEEP  OF  PANURGE. 

|N  all  movements,  at  the  heels  of  the  leaders  are  a 
'  crowd  who  go  whither  they  are  urged,  —  men  with- 
out purpose,  who  follow  one  current  or  another  as  it  may 
chance,  without  understanding  what  is  taking  place. 
The  spirit  of  imitation  and  that  of  inertia  are  important 
factors  in  the  world,  —  above  all,  in  the  world  of  youth. 
"  The  bulk  of  every  generation  is  impressionable ;  the 
greater  number,  always  and  everywhere,  are  simply  a 
flock  of  sheep."  This  tendency  to  follow  beaten  roads 
is  rather  accentuated  than  diminished,  in  our  day. 
Among  the  vulgar  errors  which  fill  our  heads  and 
which  pass  for  absolute  truths,  is  the  assumption 
that  the  past  is  characterized  by  immobility,  rigidity, 
and  poverty  of  forms,  by  the  absence  of  the  critical 
spirit,  and  by  monotony  of  thought  and  habit.  We, 
on  the  contrary,  are  full  of  diversity,  movement,  and 
inquiry.  Nothing  is  more  false.  Those  ancient  epochs, 
which  seem  to  us  so  markedly  stable,  had  none  the  less 
within  their  framework  of  stability  a  marvellous  rich- 
ness of  forms,  habits,  customs,  and  local  originality. 

1  Lceoisse:  ''La  g/n/ration  de  1890,"  Bulletin  de  r Association 
gSnerale  des  itudiatUs,  mat,  1890. 


92 


YOUTH. 


r 

I 


They  possessed  variety  in  uniformity.  We,  on  the  con- 
trary, possess  monotony  in  change.  The  more  change 
there  is,  the  greater  the  monotony.  The  thousand  forms 
in  which  life  and  thought  show  themselves  spread  and 
take  root  rapidly.  The  crowd  accepts  them  without 
discernment. 

One  of  the  peculiarities  of  this  age  of  disillusion  and 
lack  of  belief  is  infatuation.  An  idea  comes  to  life 
spontaneously ;  it  grows,  spreads,  and  carries  away  the 
masses.  None  so  credulous  as  those  who  have  re- 
nounced all  belief.  Their  need  of  belief,  always  under 
repression,  turns  suddenly  to  objects  which  chance  and 
caprice  alone  determine,  and  which  are  destined  to  be 
some  day  abandoned  just  as  they  have  been  adopted,  — 
without  apparent  reason. 

Everything  in  this  century  so  rich  in  invention  has 
contributed  to  produce  uniformity.  Knowledge  has  al- 
lowed us,  even,  to  multiply  to  infinity  a  single  design, 
and  to  throw  it  on  the  world  in  such  a  quantity  as  to 
make  it  common.  The  passion  for  vulgarizing  has 
seized  .the  arts.  Does  a  chef  d'oeuvre  somewhere  come 
to  light,  it  is  instantly  copied  in  thousands  of  impres- 
sions, and  is  seen  everywhere  so  constantly  that  at  the 
end  of  a  few  months  one  is  tired  of  it.  The  history  of 
the  most  beautiful  airs  of  the  operas  is  the  same,  —  they 
have  come  down  to  the  hand -organs.  For  six  weeks 
a  melody  captivates  the  public,  all  the  world  sings  and 
whistles  it ;  after  that  it  is  the  turn  of  another.  It  is 
the  same  with  the  greater  part  of  the  manifestations 
of  art  or  the  social  life. 

The  great  city,  with  all  the  machinery  of  modern  civi- 


THE  SHEEP  OF  PANURGE. 


9J 


lization,  has  inundated  the  country  with  its  products, 
and  carries  on  everywhere  an  unequal  contest  with  spe- 
cial localities.  By  centralization  we  have  suppressed 
not  only  all  that  was  unwholesome  or  narrow  in  in- 
dividual work,  we  have  suppressed  also  its  strength  and 
vigour.  Those  great  levellers  —  industrialism,  bureau- 
cracy, and  fashion  —  have  passed  over  the  world  and 
crushed  out  originality.  Life  and  man  have  been  re- 
duced to  the  same  level.  Local  habits,  dress,  songs,  and 
provincial  idioms  have  disappeared.  Now,  though  one 
travel  far,  one  finds  the  railway -lines,  the  stations,  the 
hotels,  and  the  theatres  as  alike  as  two  brothers.  The 
country  districts,  enfeebled,  deserted,  and  discouraged, 
present  to  the  great  cities  their  own  image  reduced  and 
stunted. 

Much  might  be  said  on  this  subject,  but  the  point  1 
wish  to  make  is  this :  Where  can  ability,  originality, 
and  the  desire  to  strike  out  into  new  paths  find  a 
place  in  a  world  so  constituted  ?  How,  think  you,  can 
youth  have  any  individual  character  ?  Note  well,  that  it 
is  almost  a  heresy  to  differ  from  every  one  else.  A  fear 
of  seeming  peculiar  shows  itself  already  in  dress.  No 
one  follows  the  fashion  so  closely  as  some  young  men. 
They  must  have  the  same  hat,  the  same  cravat,  the  same 
cut  of  coat,  etc.  Individuals  no  longer  pass  us  in  the 
streets,  but  samples,  as  they  say  in  trade,  by  the  dozen  and 
the  gross ;  and,  in  truth,  it  gives  a  vague  impression  of 
a  factory  and  of  fancy  goods  to  see  so  many  creatures 
exactly  identical  everywhere.  The  monocle,  the  cane, 
the  gestures,  the  stereotyped  phrases  suggest  an  autom- 
aton.    It  would  not  be  astonishing  to  find  on  them 


li: 


lil 


:1 

•4 

IS 


CM 


YOUTH. 


the  stamp  of  a  manufacturer  or  a  signature,  —  as,  for 
example,  Gr&vin  fecit. 

Manners  conform  to  the  same  rule  as  dress,  and  ideas 
follow  suit.  Gradually  a  rut  is  made  which  constantly 
grows  deeper.  The  crowd  fall  into  it  one  after  the 
other.  There  is  but  one  form  of  expression  in  the 
world  of  thought.  Soon  the  life  of  the  flock  of  sheep 
becomes  the  chosen  one.  If  they  go  outside  of  it,  they 
are  like  fish  out  of  water.  They  lose  the  run  of  affairs 
and  their  judgment.  They  no  longer  attach  a  value 
except  to  that  which  they  have  seen,  heard,  and  tasted 
with  the  crowd.  "It  was  wretched,  —  there  was  no 
one  there  ;  it  was  superb,  —  a  perfect  crush."  Acknowl- 
edge that  this  is  a  serious  and  grievous  state  of  things, 
from  the  point  of  view  of  the  future.  The  school  should 
be  a  remedy.  Where  more  than  there  should  indepen- 
dence be  taught  and  valued  ?  But  the  school  has  felt 
these  surrounding  influences.  Monsieur  Lavisse  shall 
speak:  "Our  inferiority  is  perhaps  the  result  of  the 
error  into  which  we  have  fallen,  yiat  of  uniform  in- 
struction. We  have  multiplied  colleges;  we  have 
placed  them  under  the  same  discipline ;  we  have  regu- 
lated the  disposition  of  time,  minute  by  minute;  we 
have  written,  article  by  article,  courses  of  study  with- 
out end.  Finally,  that  no  one  may  escape  our  rules, 
and  that  no  individuality  may  be  permitted  to  any 
one,  no  matter  who,  we  have  established  at  the  en- 
trance to  all  the  avenues  of  intellectual  life  examina- 
tions which  bar  out  all  independent  thinkers.  Our 
liberty  of  instruction  has  nothing  in  common  with 
intellectual  liberty.     It  is  reduced  to  the  choice  of  a 


THE  SHEEP  OF  PANURGE. 


95 


master,  the  option  being  between  a  civilian  and  an 
ecclesiastic. 

"  The  hold  of  the  school  on  the  mind  is  one  of  the 
phenomena  of  our  century.  We  ought  to  do  the  work 
we  do  in  the  schools,  and  we  may  pride  ourselves  on 
having  done  it;  but  beware.  Scholastic  culture,  as 
we  understand  it  to-day,  is  dangerous.  Its  pretensions 
to  be  encyclopaedic  are  a  snare.  It  wishes  to  include 
everything,  and  for  that  very  reason  it  is  limited.  The 
scholar  who  tries  to  learn  everything  learns  little ;  the 
mind  which  is  surfeited  loses  its  appetite ;  a  uniformity 
of  rules  absolutely  chokes  off  all  originality." 

To  become  somebody  under  such  conditions,  one 
must  have  a  heart  of  brass  and  a  head  of  adamant. 
France  has  sometimes  been  reproached  for  not  having 
developed  the  spirit  of  colonization.  This  spirit  is  really 
that  of  a  powerful  personal  initiative.  To  leave  fa- 
miliar surroundings  demands  courage.  It  demands  as 
much  courage  to  become  a  pioneer  in  the  domain  of 
the  mind,  of  habit,  of  action  ;  to  separate  from  the 
great  majority  and  take  one's  own  way  in  pursuit  of  a 
new  ideal.  What  ardent  sympathy  ought  we  not  to 
have  for  every  attempt  of  youth  to  free  itself  from  the 
slavish  burden  of  routine !  Our  greatest  hope  of  being 
drawn  from  the  rut  where  we  are  lies  in  the  young  men, 
few  indeed  in  number,  who  have  had  the  courage  to  live 
as  colonists  and  explorers,  and  to  escape  from  the 
flock,  shepherded,  watched,  and  sheared,  —  that  they 
might  create  for  themselves  in  communion  with  minds 
of  their  own  kind  a  refuge  for  times  of  trouble. 


96 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER  VI. 


A  FEW  WORDS  ON  PARTY  SPIRIT. 


DURING  our  progress  thus  far,  we  have  encountered 
party  spirit  several  times.  It  deserves  a  page  to 
itself,  for  the  same  reason  that  one  describes  at  length 
the  shape,  habits,  and  depredations  of  certain  noxious 
animals. 

In  the  modest  influence  which  man  has  over  his  own 
life,  one  of  the  best  rules  he  can  follow  is  this:  to 
take  things  as  they  are  and  try  to  get  the  greatest  pos- 
sible good  from  them.  A  man  imbued  with  party 
spirit  practises  this  rule  inversely,  and  so  succeeds  in 
getting  evil  even  out  of  good.  He  exaggerates  his  ad- 
versary's faults,  and  disparages  his  merits.  His  evil 
intention  neutralizes  the  good  he  might  otherwise  gain. 

The  incurable  idiosyncrasy  of  party  spirit  is  its  oppo- 
sition to  the  great  human  law  of  solidarity.  It  creates  a 
humanity  within  a  humanity,  draws  around  this  elect 
few  a  well-defined  line,  intrenches  and  barricades  itself 
within,  and  allows  to  be  seen  from  without  only  thick 
walls,  bristling  with  arms.  Henceforth  abstract  interest, 
justice,  and  right  no  longer  exist.  In  their  place  are  party 
interests,  party  justice,  etc.  All  that  the  party  and  its 
supporters  do  is  right.  Let  others  do  precisely  the  same, 
if  they  are  outside  the  fold,  it  is  wrong.    '*  What  is  a 


A  FEW  WORDS  ON  PARTY  SPIRIT. 


97 


noxious  plant  ?  Every  plant  that  does  not  grow  in  our 
own  garden.  But  your  neighbour  cultivates  precisely 
the  same  plant  as  you.  Impossible.  If  he  does,  he  is 
a  counterfeiter.  We  alone  are  the  salt  of  the  earth." 
Such  is  party  spirit.  The  best  horse  if  he  will  not 
harness  to  their  chariot  is  but  a  donkey.  The  gold  of 
others  is  false ;  their  virtues  are  glittering  vices ;  their 
beliefs  imposture.  They  have  something  else  to  think 
of  than  separating  the  good  from  the  bad  in  an  adver- 
sary's action.  To  suppose  him  capable  of  any  good 
whatever  is,  in  a  way,  to  go  over  to  the  enemy. 

It  is  not  one  of  the  least  significant  signs  of  the  times 
that  this  pernicious  spirit  develops  side  by  side  with 
scepticism.  It  is  often  the  cloak  which  the  latter  as- 
sumes. To  hide  the  void  within,  it  shelters  itself  be- 
hind an  imposing  front.  The  fragile  reed  of  a  worn 
and  worm-eaten  conviction  is  painted  to  represent  iron. 
Thus  the  greatest  infidels,  scoffers,  revilers,  —  in  short, 
all  men  who  are  without  that  elementary  basis  of  all 
conviction,  respect,  —  have  shown  themselves  in  our 
day  uncompromising  partisans.  And  this  is  certainly 
logical.  It  is  rare  that  he  who  has  followed  toward  the 
truth  the  humble  path  of  personal  experience,  ceases  to 
keep  in  that  path.  Nay,  he  goes  forward,  thinking 
whether  he  may  not  get  light  even  from  an  adversary. 
But  he  who  is  nothing  and  believes  nothing,  neither 
divine  nor  human,  who  is  dead,  in  short,  to  the  truth, 
has  everything  to  gain  in  assuming  the  impassible  atti- 
tude of  party  spirit.  Its  rigidity,  which  is  only  that  of 
a  corpse,  gives  the  impression  of  firmness. 

Here,  without  doubt,  is  one  of  the  great  reasons  why 

7 


V®' 


YOUTH. 


I 


II 
II 


f 


party  spirit  has  in  our  day  infested  politics,  religion, 
and  science  itself.  It  has  worked  wonders.  Thanks  to 
it,  for  instance,  on  certain  days  of  defeat  men  prone  on 
the  earth  with  their  backs  broken  have  sung  victory  in 
the  press,  declaring  themselves  stronger  than  ever,  and 
burying  their  opponents  —  on  paper.  Thanks  to  it, 
fanatics  —  religious,  so  called  —  declare  questionable, 
acts  of  self-devotion  which  are  not  inspired  by  a  senti- 
ment like  their  own ;  and  vice  versa  the  fanatics  of  un- 
belief accuse  as  hypocritical  the  slightest  evidences 
of  a  disinterested  spirit  in  which  religion  has  had  a 
part.  It  is  this  same  spirit  which  dreams,  in  time  of 
public  tranquillity,  of  disorder  and  anarchy,  because  of 
devotion  to  overthrown  dynasties;  or  which  makes 
some  declare  that  monarchical  France  knew  only  terror, 
rapine,  and  tyranny.  One  man  states,  ex  cathedra, 
*•  For  three  centuries  history  is  one  vast  assault  on  the 
truth."  Another  counts  the  days  and  years  from  the 
Revolution  ;  all  that  went  before  is  null  and  void. 

What  a  beautiful  school  for  youth  is  this  over  which 
such  a  master  presides,  and  under  whose  regime  one  can 
say  truthfully,  "  I  know  that  I  live  in  a  time  of  intol- 
erance, where  i  can  expect  nothing  from  those  who  do 
not  think  exactly  as  I  do."  ^ 

That  this  scowling,  surly  spirit,  which  is  forgetful  of 
all  that  brings  men  together,  and  mindful  only  of  what 
divides  them,  should  appear  to  some  extent  in  ship- 
wrecked lives ;  that  it  should  lay  hold  on  men  of  mature 
years ;  that  it  should  harden  the  hearts  of  the  old,  rousing 
the  passions  and  destroying  the  pleasures  and  the  fruits 

*  Edgar  Quinet :  U esprit  nouveau. 


li 


A  FEW  WORDS  ON  PARTY  SPIRIT. 


99 


of  life,  is  sad.  But  it  is  a  deformity  which  seems  more 
natural  to  those  whom  life  has  maltreated.  It  is  a  dif- 
ferent thing  to  meet  this  same  deformity  in  the  young ; 
there  it  is  hideous.  A  young  man  bitten  by  party 
spirit  is  a  being  incomparably  odious ;  for  to  assume 
the  turn  of  mind  and  the  appearance  of  a  partisan,  — 
his  crabbed  and  unreasonable  air,  —  it  is  necessary  to 
suppress  deliberately  all  native  kindliness,  all  whole- 
some curiosity,  and  all  good  impulses.  Men  who  train 
animals  are  sometimes  very  cruel  to  the  poor  beasts. 
They  dig  out  nightingales'  eyes  to  make  them  sing 
better,  and  cut  dogs'  ears  to  make  them  look  more 
fierce.  Poor  beasts !  wicked  men  !  But  what  shall  we 
say  of  those  who  treat  youth  thus,  or  of  the  youth 
which  inflicts  such  mutilation  on  itself  ? 

Nevertheless,  party  spirit  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
influences  at  the  time  when  man  takes  his  bearings  and 
chooses  his  path  in  life.  The  timidity  of  youth,  its 
ignorance,  its  inertia,  all  predestine  it  to  fall  a  prey. 
Its  impressionable  nature,  and  its  resemblance  to  a  flock 
of  sheep,  of  which  we  have  spoken,  furnish  exactly  the 
characteristics  desired  by  the  moulders  of  the  profes- 
sion. It  can  be  hardened  and  manipulated  at  will.  Woe 
to  the  young  men  who  undergo  these  influences  and 
know  not  how  to  defend  themselves.  They  are  for 
years,  perhaps  forever,  reduced  to  slavery,  unless,  worse 
still,  they  become  themselves  fanatics.  What  a  wonder- 
ful product  the  world  is  then  called  to  contemplate !  The 
most  in  earnest  in  that  case  are  the  neophytes.  Their 
zeal  is  the  delight  of  their  spiritual  fathers.  They  were 
fierce ;  the  neophytes  are  filled  with  fury.   The  less  they 


,/ 


100 


YOUTH. 


know  of  men  and  their  reasons  for  action,  the  more  easily 
can  they  abuse,  judge,  and  condemn  them.  It  is  a  con- 
test as  to  which  shall  use  the  more  violent  language,  and 
attack  with  the  lesser  shame  irreproachable  adversaries. 
Such  a  youth  is  incapable  of  learning  anything.  It  enters 
life  through  the  little  low  door  of  prejudice,  shuts  itself 
in,  narrows  down  feeling  and  thought  more  and  more 
each  day,  and  finally  becomes  deaf  and  blind  even  to 
evidence. 

Happily  here  the  excess  of  evil,  even,  is  sometimes  a 
good.  Party  spirit  has  set  afloat  so  many  scandals,  has 
neutralized  so  many  honest  and  courageous  efforts,  that 
it  is  discredited.  I  foresee  a  youth  who  for  its  better 
protection  has  chosen  this  watchword,  —  Party  spirit  is 
an  enemy. 


HEALTH  AND  AMUSEMENTS. 


101 


CHAPTER  VII. 


HEALTH  AND  AMUSEMENTS. 

'T'HERE  have  been  long  periods  in  history  when  men 
^  developed  themselves  physically  at  the  expense 
of  development  in  other  directions,  and  lived  as  if  they 
had  no  minds.  There  have  been  times,  too,  when  they 
lived  as  if  they  had  no  bodies.  In  one  way  it  might  be 
said  that  our  age  has  acted  as  if  it  had  neither  the  one 
nor  the  other.  Materialistic  science,  which  denies  mind, 
claims  to  have  closed  forever  a  host  of  well-springs 
whence  the  soul  drew  new  vigour  and  strength.  Then, 
too,  we  have  for  a  long  time  neglected  physical  educa- 
tion. Knowledge  is  the  one  thing  needful  for  man.  To 
acquire  it,  everything  else  must  be  sacrificed.  We  have 
produced,  as  a  consequence,  cerebral  hypertrophy,  ab- 
normal intelligences,  and  bundles  of  nerves.  Existing 
civilization,  too,  with  its  feverish  haste,  the  multitude 
of  sensations  which  it  imparts  to  us,  the  emotions  which 
it  continually  excites,  and  the  refinements  of  pleasure 
which  it  procures,  has  had  a  fatal  influence  on  our 
nervous  system.  Life,  such  as  it  has  now  become,  exas- 
perates the  sensibilities,  strains  the  nerves  to  the  utmost, 
breaks  down  energy,  and  weakens  the  blood.  Our 
food  itself  helps  to  produce  this  result.  Rich  food  and 
strong  drink  are  everywhere  in  demand.    One  of  the 


102 


YOUTH. 


contradictions  of  our  age,  whose  contradictions  are  so 
numerous  that  they  cannot  be  specified;  is  that  while  it 
has  conquered  Nature  and  the  natural  sciences  it  has 
carried  man  farther  from  Nature  than  ever.  An  artifi- 
cial life  has  been  developed.  Our  means  of  transpor^- 
tation  and  traffic  have  congregated  in  the  great  urban 
centres  the  life  which  was  scattered  over  large  districts. 
The  large  cities  have  absorbed  the  most  genuine  intel- 
ligence and  energy  of  all  nations.  France  has  rushed 
into  this  extreme  phase  of  centralization  with  rare  im- 
petuosity. A  state  of  plethora,  of  congestion,  has  little 
by  little  declared  itself  in  the  great  centres.  The  moun- 
tains, the  forests,  the  fields,  on  the  other  hand,  are  de- 
populated. A  constantly  increasing  number  of  men 
have  consummated  the  divorce,  —  the  most  fatal  which 
can  be  consummated,  —  the  divorce  of  man  from 
Nature,  from  the  soil. 

What  are  the  usual  environments  of  our  studious 
youth,  come  from  where  it  may  ?  They  are  nearly  al- 
ways the  artificial  and  enervating  life  of  great  cities. 
Nature  is  far  away,  beyond  the  pavements,  the  chim- 
neys, and  the  walls.  It  is  impossible,  with  the  best  in- 
tentions in  the  world,  that  physical  health  should  not 
sufi"er.  Every  one  knows  that  a  great  city  devours  young 
children.  It  consumes  a  frightful  total  of  lives  and 
energies,  and,  left  to  itself,  would  soon  become  depop- 
ulated. Nothing  could  be  worse  for  youth  from  the 
point  of  view  of  hygiene.  Everything  is  sedentary, 
pleasure  and  study  alike,  and  everything  is  carried  to 
excess.  The  double  load  of  unwholesome  amusements 
and  undue  study  quickly  affects  the  most  robust  health. 


HEALTH  AND  AMUSEMENTS. 


103 


I 


Indoor  life,  late  hours,  bad  air,  all  the  accessories  of  a 
somnambulistic  life,  subject  the  physique  to  a  strain,  and 
sooner  or  later  have  to  be  paid  for.  But  the  saddest  re- 
sult of  this  artificial  life,  ruinous  alike  to  the  brain  and 
the  nervous  system,  has  been  the  almost  total  suppres- 
sion of  the  only  thing  capable  of  restoring  the  lost 
equilibrium,  —  physical  exercise  and  manual  labour. 
For  years  these  two  have  been  more  and  more  neglected. 
A  sort  of  foolish  contempt  for  them  exists.  Physical 
exercise,  in  the  shape  of  some  excellent  sports,  has  be- 
gun to  find  favour  these  latter  days.  Manual  labour, 
especially  the  tillage  of  the  soil,  —  the  most  healthful  and 
the  most  normal  of  all, — has  always  been  out  of  favour. 
Youth  has  reaped  to-day  what  its  predecessors  sowed. 
Each  new  generation  shows  more  striking  signs  of  weak- 
ness. Already  many  are  calling  attention  to  the  dan- 
ger, and  they  begin  to  be  listened  to.  But  it  is  hard  to 
recover  lost  ground.  How  fight  at  one  and  the  same 
time  against  hereditary  tastes  and  the  difficulties  of  the 
situation  ?  The  evil  is  evident,  the  remedy  less  so.  In 
short,  our  whole  youth  suffers  the  results  of  an  artifi- 
cial and  abnormal  life. 

It  is  even  easy  now  to  find  young  men  who  have  a 
distressing  impression  of  life,  and  who  cling  to  it 
only  indifferently,  though  at  the  same  time  they  do  not 
wish  to  undergo  suffering  or  to  die.  I  am  not  speaking 
of  those  bias}  youths  who  have  exhausted  the  entire 
round  of  pleasures,  as  others  have  that  of  the  emotions 
and  the  intellect,  and  who  have  become  sceptical  as  to 
pleasure  as  these  to  philosophy.  I  am  speaking  of 
those   sensitive   and   morbid   souls   for   whom  even 


!  1 


104 


YOUTH. 


the  daily  round  of  our  nervous  life  has  become  painful, 
and  resembles  its  normal  state  no  more  than  the  deep 
full  note  of  a  fine  bell  resembles  the  irritating  jingling 
of  an  electric  annunciator.  In  such  a  state  cheer- 
fulness and  mirth,  those  sacred  treasures  of  youth,  are 
but  a  cause  of  suffering.  It  reaches  insensibly  a  point 
where  it  cannot  be  amused.  The  cause  of  this  is 
largely  the  class  of  pleasures  we  select.  Nearly  all  our 
amusements  stimulate  the  nerves  instead  of  quieting 
them.  Amusement  is  excitement.  This  forced  pleasure 
is  artificial  and  very  exhausting.  Instead  of  leading 
you  to  taste  the  good  things  of  life,  and  that  sweet  in- 
toxication which  makes  healthful  and  vigorous  youth 
hear  **  the  welkin  ring  and  the  stars  sing  together,"  it 
disposes  you  rather  by  forced  reaction  to  perceive  the 
bitter  dregs  at  the  bottom  of  the  cup.  Oh !  I  know 
perfectly  that  here  and  there  real  pleasures  still  exist, 
and  I  rejoice  at  it.  Pleasures  will  always  exist  while 
there  are  sunshine,  flowers,  and  fresh-hearted  young 
companions.  But  on  the  whole  they  have  diminished, 
and  my  ears  ring  with  the  cry,  "  We  don't  know  how 
to  amuse  ourselves." 

^It  is  high  time  that  these  symptoms  be  considered 
seriously.  In  my  opinion,  health  and  amusement  are  as 
necessary  parts  of  cultivation  in  life  as  any  branch  of 
knowledge,  no  matter  what  it  is.  But  I  will  return  to 
this  subject. 

Alas !  how  shall  we  refrain  from  thinking  that  with 
many  the  evil  is  incurable  ?  Let  me  at  least  drop  a 
sympathetic  tear  over  the  many  poor  lost  young  lives, 
victims  of  psychological  anomalies,  faded  before  their 


HEALTH  AND  AMUSEMENTS. 


105 


time,  and  over  that  youth  destined  to  fall  from  the  tree 
of  life  like  unsound  fruit.  Melancholy  harvest  from  so 
many  seeds  of  errors  and  vices !  They  are  to  be  pitied. 
They  pay  a  debt  which  they  never  contracted.  They 
may  be  called  the  century's  children  of  sorrow.  But 
woe  to  us,  if  the  pity  which  they  inspire  does  not 
awaken  in  our  hearts  a  hatred  for  all  that  has  caused 
their  martyrdom! 


•  •■ 


106 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  YOUTH    OF  THE  PEOPLE. 

T^HE  life  of  the  people  is  one  of  the  good  things  of 
*  which  we  know  nothing.  What  appears  on  the 
surface  is  a  small  or  poor  indication  of  what  goes  on 
within.  Nevertheless,  this  life  should  be  widely  studied 
because  of  the  good  there  is  in  it,  and  because  of  the 
evils  from  which  it  suffers.  Each  of  these  is  reflected 
in  its  youth.  Its- lot  in  life  is  essentially  different  from 
that  of  studious  youth.  It  has  neither  the  leisure  nor 
the  culture  necessary  to  inform  itself  of  the  world  of 
ideas  and  theories.  The  struggle  for  bread,  the  hard  ex- 
actions of  labour  constantly  distract  it,  and  do  not  per- 
mit of  indulgence  or  self-examination.  Analysis  of 
ideas  and  impressions  is  a  thing  unknown.  After  a  few 
short  years  at  a  primary  school,  the  workshop,  the  fac- 
tory, the  office,  or  the  fields,  and  above  all,  the  example 
of  those  above  it,  and  the  cheap  press  are  its  school. 

Notwithstanding  the  tender  age  at  which  the  children 
of  the  people  enter  school,  and  the  short  time  they  at- 
tend, its  influence  cannot  be  over-estimated.  Its  com- 
prehensiveness  and  the  number  of  people  to  whom  it 
appeals  make  it  a  great  power.  The  attention  we  have 
bestowed  on  our  public  schools  will  be  one  of  our 
merits  in  the  tyes  of  posterity.    The  primary  school  is 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


107 


par  excellence  the  instrument  of  national  education. 
I  expect  to  return  to  this  subject  later  on.  For  the 
moment  I  will  mention  it  only  as  one  of  those  factors 
which  influence  the  youth  of  the  people  and  its  ideas. 
Every  one  knows  how  lasting  are  the  impressions  of  in- 
fancy. They  are  still  more  lasting  among  the  people 
than  among  the  cultivated  class,  where  reading,  succes- 
sive schools,  and  various  influences  interfere  with  and 
sometimes  efface  them. 

The  churches  are  another  factor.  A  goodly  number 
of  youth,  it  is  true,  escape  this  influence,  especially  in 
the  great  centres ;  but  it  incontestably  affects  a  multi- 
tude. How  long  will  it  last.?  To  what  degree  it  is 
trammelled  by  indifference  and  suppressed  by  antipathy, 
it  is  difficult  to  say  exactly.  But  though  the  mass  of 
the  people  do  not  escape  contact  with  religion,  it  is  not 
necessarily  religious.  It  is  infinitely  less  so  than  here- 
tofore. The  increased  observance  of  certain  outward 
forms,  encouraged  and  abetted  with  a  purpose  often 
foreign  to  religion,  should  not  deceive  us  on  this  point. 
The  people  have  conceived  a  distrust  of  religion.  Its 
supernatural  character  removes  it  from  their  sphere, 
and  to  it  they  attribute  certain  reservations  on  social 
and  political  subjects.  Consciously  or  unconsciously, 
many  ask  themselves  if  the  church  is  not  on  the  side  of 
the  powers  of  the  earth  and  the  prosperous  middle 
class  against  the  weak.  That  the  would-be  movement 
for  reform  should  have  begun  in  contemporaneous 
society  with  the  aristocracy,  and  thence  passed  to  the 
middle  classes  in  its  attempts  to  reach  the  people,  is  a 
strong  indication  of  this. 


i 


108 


YOUTH. 


Whatever  it  may  be,  the  practical  orientation  of  the 
youth  of  the  people  begins  too  soon.  It  is  made  dur- 
ing those  years  of  apprenticeship  which  are  the  schools 
of  the  masses.  The  difference  in  occupations  is  very 
great.  To  be  in  the  workshop  is  quite  another  thing 
from  being  a  clerk  or  a  farm  labourer. 

The  years  of  apprenticeship  of  a  young  mechanic 
are  very  hard.  What  is  a  child  of  that  age,  to  be  given 
over  by  himself  to  that  formidable  combination  of  men 
and  machinery  which  our  great  industries  are  ?  He  is 
so  small,  so  weak ;  and  the  forces,  the  personal  influ- 
ences, the  material  interests  about  him  are  so  great.  In 
that  mighty  workroom  where  the  looms  whir  with 
such  deafening  noise,  where  the  most  careful  attention 
is  necessary  to  avoid  accidents,  and  where  every  faculty 
is  concentrated  on  the  execution  of  three  or  four 
movements,  the  child  insensibly  feels  himself  a  wheel 
among  wheels.  He  turns  into  a  machine,  because 
the  machine  cannot  become  human.  And  when  he 
sees  that  great  engine  which  turns  the  shaft  and  the 
belting  that  make  the  looms  move  under  his  eyes,  — 
that  precious  engine  shut  up  in  a  house  of  its  own, 
watched  over  and  cared  for,  and  terrible  above  all  for 
its  strength  and  its  risks,  —  how  small  does  the  child 
feel  beside  this  fire -devouring  monster  of  iron  that  often 
grinds  to  pieces  those  who  feed  it ! 

How  poorly  cared  for  he  feels  beside  these  glistening 
machines  which  lack  nothing  and  which  cost  so  dear ! 
What  is  he  in  comparison  with  them  and  the  wealth 
whose  instrument  they  are  ? 

Then  there  are  the  encounters  with  those  in  authority, 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


109 


the  brusque  elbowings-aside,  the  curt  orders,  the  coarse 
talk,  full  of  all  kinds  of  good  and  evil,  the  concise  and 
pitiless  insight  into  men  and  things, — -all  of  which 
puzzle  young*  heads,  and  make  an  agglomeration  so  dif- 
ficult for  them  to  judge  aright.  The  nature  of  our 
modern  industry,  its  development,  its  colossal  factories 
and  foundries,  its  great  stock  companies,  the  gradual 
drawing  apart  of  master  and  man  who  were  often  co- 
labourers,  —  all  this  renders  the  position  of  the  youth  of 
the  workshops  as  difficult  as  it  is  interesting. 

Youth  in  clerical  positions  has  a  much  easier  life.  It 
also  belongs  to  the  people,  and  from  the  nature  of  its 
duties  pertains  to  that  ever- increasing  class  of  interme- 
diaries between  an  idea  and  its  material  execution,  be- 
tween capital  and  labour,  and  between  the  master  and 
the  man,  which  our  form  of  society  has  made  neces- 
sary. Like  all  intermediaries  they  share  the  qualities 
and  shortcomings  of  those  above  and  below  them.  The 
most  serious  hardship  of  these  young  employes  is  their 
sedentary  life,  —  which  is  almost  that  of  a  cell  bounded 
by  a  chair  and  the  corner  of  a  table,  —  and  the  confining 
nature  of  their  work.  Their  duties  are  so  subdivided 
that  each  has  only  some  one  subdivision,  and  works  in  a 
round  like  a  horse  in  a  riding-school.  This  destroys 
the  mind.    The  effect  on  the  body  is  equally  bad. 

In  these  two  respects  the  agriculturist  fares  better. 
His  work  changes  with  the  seasons,  he  is  in  touch  with 
Nature ;  and  although  occupied  with  manual  labour,  he 
must  think  more,  because  of  what  is  ever  before  his 
eyes,  and  because  his  changing  occupations  demand  it. 
Thus,  though  artistic  work  has  nearly  all  disappeared 


110 


YOUTH. 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


Ill 


from  manufactures  under  the  terrible  pressure  of  eco- 
nomic competition,  and  the  most  capable  artists  have 
been  reduced,  little  by  little,  to  machines,  the  young 
agriculturist  is  still  in  his  normal  condition.  His  is  no 
cramped  life ;  he  lays  his  hand  on  the  whole  grand  work 
of  creation,  —  nay,  more,  he  is  surrounded  by  things 
beyond  the  calculation  and  foresight  of  man.  Fast 
though  he,  too,  may  be  in  the  meshes  of  the  economic 
net,  he  does  not  see  everywhere  those  fatal  figures  which 
are  such  a  wretched  standard  of  man  and  his  works. 
His  field  has  a  money  value,  no  doubt,  but  it  is  worth 
far  more  than  that  to  him.  He  has  the  pleasure  of  see- 
ing the  crops  grow  and  ripen,  he  has  the  memory  of 
his  father  who  tilled  and  cared  for  the  same  fields,  and, 
in  short,  a  multitude  of  associations  such  as  give  value 
to  the  veriest  trifles.  He  is  not  lost  in  the  crowd,  he  is 
somebody,  —  not  a  mere  number,  like  the  young  appren- 
tices in  great  factories,  or  even  like  young  clerks.  On 
the  other  hand,  he  feels  from  afar  the  increasing  influ- 
ence, the  fascination  of  the  great  city.  Here  is  his  dan- 
ger, for  he  risks  losing  that  which  is  his  mainstay,  — 
the  love  for  the  soil,  that  deep  and  powerful  sentiment, 
the  source  of  energy  and  virtue. 

This  is  the  place  to  present  certain  general  considera- 
tions on  the  intellectual  and  moral  outfit  of  the  youth 
of  the  people,  and  on  its  conception  of  life  such  as  it 
appears  to  us  in  the  present  generation. 

The  lower  classes,  no  matter  where  they  are  studied, 
are  profoundly  affected  by  the  current  realism.  The 
two  or  three  fundamental  beliefs  which  have  consti- 
tuted  for  them  during  centuries  the  very  basis  of  religion 


and  morality  are  shaken  in  some,  destroyed  in  others. 
God,  the  soul,  the  hereafter,  human  liberty  and  respon- 
sibility, —  those  who  have  retained  belief  in  these  retain 
it  greatly  weakened.  From  the  number  who  cling  to 
them  and  prove  it  by  outward  observance,  if  we  deduct 
those  whom  routine  or  interest  influences,  the  contingent 
of  believers  that  remains  is  small  indeed.  A  greater  ma- 
terial welfare  has  resulted  to  the  people  from  the  great 
scientific  movement  of  the  day,  but  with  it  have  come 
greater  needs,  and  the  conviction  that  only  what  one 
can  see  or  touch  can  be  depended  on.  As  a  rule,  youth 
between  seventeen  and  twenty -five  is  distinguished  by  a 
development  of  the  appetites  and  a  decrease  of  the 
aspirations.  It  is  a  sad  thing  to  say ;  but  the  better  ac- 
quaintance I  have  made  with  this  particular  world,  the 
more  am  1  convinced  of  the  immense  void  which  has 
formed  little  by  little  in  the  soul  of  the  people.  There 
are  days  when  what  one  hears  and  sees  almost  leads  to 
the  conclusion  that  there  is  no  longer  any  belief.  A 
half-dozen  negative  formulas,  the  condensed  results 
of  accumulated  negations,  make  up  the  category  of 
mystery  and  the  infinite.  The  system  of  morality  is  in 
keeping  with  this  philosophy ;  it  is  utilitarian  in  theory. 
How  could  it  be  otherwise  ?  Do  those  who  give  the 
tone  to  society  show  any  other  than  this  in  their  acts  ? 
Have  not  the  people  daily  under  their  eyes  the  sight  of 
that  morality  of  success  which  so  disgraces  us  ?  Does  it 
not  see  men  and  enterprises  which  are  successful  ab- 
solved from  responsibility,  even  by  those  who  make 
profession  of  morality  and  religion  ?  As  if  that  which 
triumphed  were  always  good,  and  that  which  failed  were 


112 


YOUTH. 


f 

1 


bad.   Has  it  not  evidence  every  time  it  opens  its  eyes  that 
money  dishonestly  obtained,  when  there  is  plenty  of  it, 
is  more  honoured  than  honest  money  when  there  is 
little  ?    That  alone  would  be  enough  to  make  it  conceive 
doubts  of  the  religion  and  morality  which  is  taught  it. 
It  drops  your  good  advice  and  your  principles,  and  bor- 
rows  your  vices.    It  is  tempted  to  consider  the  first  as 
an  invention  by  clever  people  for  the  use  of  the  simple- 
minded.    The  morality  which  counts  is  that  which  is 
practised,  not  that  which  is  taught.    The  people  are  on 
the  watch,  and  great  breaches  are  made  in  their  con- 
science whenever  they  on  whom  their  eyes  are  fixed 
show  by  their  acts  that  at  bottom  they  are  without  princi- 
ples.  For,  make  no  mistake,  there  are  always  the  leading 
classes.    Much  has  been  said  in  our  day  of  their  disap- 
pearance.   It  is  claimed  that  they  have  died  out  for  lack 
of  successors ;  that  they  lost  their  influence  through  their 
own  fault,  or  through  pressure  from  the  spirit  of  equal- 
ity.   There  is  truth  in  all  this.    But  it  is  also  true  that 
that  which  gave  the  old  leading  classes  their  dangerous 
prerogative  —  namely,  moral  ascendancy  and  the  power 
of  example  —  can  never  die.     Its  watchword  is  one  of 
those  urgent  social  needs  that  always  exist,  and  comes 
necessarily  from  the  lettered  and  opulent  few.    They 
who  are  prominent  because  of  learning  or  fortune  are 
looked  up  to.    The  popular  mind  differs  from  that  of 
the  educated  classes,  in  that  it  holds  more  strongly  to 
men  than  to  ideas,  to  deeds  and  facts  than  to  senti- 
ments.    Shades  of  meaning  and  distinctions  escape  it. 
It  is  hard  to  gain  its  attention,  but  once  gained  it  is  in 
earnest.    It  informs  itself,  then,  en  Hoc,  and  pronounces 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


113 


summary  judgments  which  it  cannot  be  persuaded  to 
change.  ' 

This  state  of  things  can  be  more  easily  noticed  in  the 
youth  of  the  people  than  elsewhere.  Yet  despite  all 
this,  the  utilitarianism  of  which  we  have  spoken  is  not 
at  ease  in  its  surroundings.  This  system  of  morality  is 
contradicted  every  day  in  the  lives  of  those  who  pro- 
fess it.  Among  the  people,  more  than  elsewhere,  under 
the  imperious  demands  of  existence,  the  weight  of  suf- 
fering or  of  common  trouble,  humanity  awakes  and 
performs  unceasing  and  touching  acts  of  solidarity  and 
friendship.  Unhappily  they  appear  little  on  the  sur- 
face.  To  find  them  we  must  lead  the  life  of  the  people. 
The  evil,  on  the  contrary,  is  in  plain  sight. 

I  note,  especially,  in  the  world  of  this  youth  two 
things  from  which  conclusions  may  properly  be  drawn ; 
namely,  their  treatment  of  their  parents  when  old,  and 
their  treatment  of  women.  I  regret  to  say  that  exam- 
ples of  cynicism  in  acts  and  words,  of  depravity  of 
manners,  and  of  contempt  for  women  abound.  Disre- 
spect and  ingratitude  to  parents,  even  when  poverty  does 
not  mitigate  the  offence,  are  so  common  that  at  certain 
moments  of  depression  one  might  declare  that  there  was 
a  complete  moral  decay.  And  here  we  may  note  to- 
ward both  women  and  parents  a  lessening  of  respect 
everywhere. 

A  man's  respect  increases  or  decreases  with  his  con- 
ception of  his  own  dignity.  The  more  a  man  is  worth 
in  his  own  eyes,  the  more  willingly  does  he  respect 
men  or  institutions  which  personify  human  nature 
and  society.    When  he  has  bst  faith  in  his  higher 

8 


1 


4 


114 


YOUTH. 


self,  in  his  worth  as  a  moral  being,  —  in  his  soul,  in 
short,  —  he  loses  the  basis  of  respect.  Nothing  appears 
worthy  of  reverence.  His  view  of  the  whole  world 
is  distorted  by  this  mental  lack.  We  are  here  face  to 
face  with  a  serious  fact.  Some  accuse  the  modem 
spirit  of  having  destroyed  reverence  by  its  equalizing 
tendencies.  Let  us  look  into  it,  because  it  is  worth 
while  to  be  sure  of  a  thing. 

No  age  has  done  more  to  destroy  the  pomp  of  state 
and  custom,  no  age  has  gone  so  relentlessly  to  the 
bottom  of  glittering  nullities.    It  has  not  been  willing 
to   accord    respect  except  with    full    foreknowledge. 
Whoever  is  touched  by  the  modern  spirit,  be  he  em- 
peror or  pope  (and  Heaven  be  praised,  such  things  have 
happened  !),  seems  at  bottom  convinced  of  this,  —  that 
nothing  is  great  unless  it  is  true.      Men  in  heredi- 
tary  positions  of  great  power  seek  rather  to  commend 
themselves  by  justice,  by  care  for  the  weak,  by  all  that 
suggests  that  they  are  men  like  ourselves,  than  by  any 
assertion  of  absolute  authority.    They  claim  to  be  the 
servants  of  the  people  rather  than  their  masters.    An- 
other has  worn  this  title  before  them.    That  other  was 
Christ.    It  is,  in  truth,  from  him  that  this  new  concep- 
tion of  authority  springs.    What  harm  is  there  in  this  ? 
Is  respect  thereby  diminished  ?    I  declare,  on  the  con- 
trary,  that  a  spirit  such  as  this  is  the  grandest,  the  most 
august  in  the  world,  since  it  teaches  us  to  fear  nothing 
and  torespect  nothing  above  that  holy  and    immortal 
law  which  governs  all ;  and  to  find  greatness  in  our  own 
souls,  and  in  that  helpful  disposition  which  makes  the 
highest,  out  of  respect  for  life,  become  the  lowliest 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


115 


servitor.  But  this  spirit,  like  all  other  good  things,  has 
its  caricature  ;  and  that  caricature  is  the  spirit  of  depre- 
ciation. This  does  not  consist  in  according  respect  only 
where  it  is  due,  and  in  proclaiming  that  only  as  great 
which  is  true ;  it  consists  in  respecting  nothing  at  all. 
Above  all,  it  delights  in  vilifying  and  dragging  in  the 
mud  all  that  is  venerable  and  holy.  It  is  not  worth  its 
while  to  unmask  borrowed  greatness  and  to  search  for 
truth  in  order  to  reverence  it,  —  no,  all  greatness  and 
all  superiority  irritate  it.  It  is,  in  its  very  essence,  sub- 
versive, irreligious,  and  worldly.  It  has  transformed 
man's  lack  of  fear  and  his  contempt  for  artificial  great- 
ness, that  noble  trait  of  fine  souls,  into  lack  of  piety, 
that  characteristic  of  knaves. 

The  modern  spirit  leads  to  freedom ;  this  other  to  the 
worst  slavery.  The  man  who  respects  nothing  falls 
into  the  grasp  of  constraint  and  brute  force. 

Whence  comes  this  lack  of  respect  which  afflicts  our 
youth  so  sorely?  It  comes  from  the  pernicious  ex- 
amples set  by  those  in  high  places.  It  comes  from  cor- 
rupt instructors,  —  those  professors  of  nothingness  and 
earth,  great  and  small,  whose  doctrines  have  filtered 
through  thousands  of  crevices  into  the  hearts  of  the 
masses.  It  comes  from  the  retailers  of  scandals  and 
calumniators  by  profession,  who  are  urgent  to  discover 
a  thief,  an  assassin,  or  at  least  a  hypocrite  in  every  man 
who  is  prominent  from  his  position  or  his  talent.  There 
is  a  work  more  dangerous  than  to  demolish  the  princi- 
ples of  the  people,  or  to  cast  ridicule  on  holy  and  vener- 
able things,  or  to  sully  its  imagination  with  impure 
literature,  —  it  is  to  destroy  its  belief  in  honesty,  in 


116 


YOUTH. 


disinterestedness,  in  all  virtue;  and  in  this  respect  an 
enormous  amount  of  disintegration  has  been  accom- 
plished. Personal  influence  has  been  increased  to  ii;n- 
measurable  proportions  by  the  propaganda  of  the  cheap 
press.  There  is  no  need  of  reading  a  bad  book,  or  of 
being  told  of  things  in  detail.  An  article  in  the  news- 
paper, a  line  in  a  serial,  a  wretched  caricature  is  enough 
to  awaken  a  train  of  ideas,  and  to  open  the  door  into 
a  world.  There  are  certain  low  tendencies  in  human 
nature  which  welcome  evil  suggestions.  They  can  al- 
ways be  counted  on,  when  one  wishes  to  corrupt  and 
to  coin  money  at  the  same  time. 

But  this  is  not  all.  When  reverence  takes  flight,  con- 
fidence disappears  also.  The  people  to-day,  and  the 
youth  of  the  people,  distrust  every  one  and  everything, 
even  those  chance  educators  who  have  perverted  their 
minds.  There  was  a  time  not  far  back,  when  all  that 
was  printed,  whether  placard,  proclamation,  or  news- 
paper, was  read  and  believed  in  as  gospel.  We  all  feel 
the  need  of  relying  on  something,  and  those  who  have 
the  least  light  crave  it  more  than  others.  Through  this, 
which  is  in  truth  only  one  of  the  forms  of  faith  in  hu- 
manity and  truth,  and  one  of  the  evidences  of  rectitude, 
a  vast  measure  of  good  can  be  accomplished.  But  con- 
fidence is  killed  by  abuse.  The  people  have  been  so 
often  deceived  that,  for  a  large  number,  words  and  print 
have  no  value.  This  is  scepticism,  and  in  one  of  its 
worst  forms.  Youth  has  inherited  this  scepticism.  The 
precious  link  between  those  who  ought  to  teach  and 
direct  and  those  who  have  need  to  be  taught  is  thus 
broken ;  and  the  great  majority  of  youth,  left  to  itself. 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


117 


lives  on  without  belief,  principles,  or  confidence  in  man 
to  guide  it. 

One  of  the  consequences  of  this  state  of  mind  is  a 
lack  of  cohesion,  which  shows  itself  in  the  direction  of 
their  most  serious  interests.  It  would,  for  instance, 
have  been  natural  to  see  the  youth  of  the  people  inter- 
ested, as  one  man,  in  social  questions.  What  we  do  see  is 
rather  the  opposite  of  this.  The  majority  do  not  inter- 
est themselves  at  all.  A  minority  only  is  enthusiastic ; 
but  it  is  rare  for  even  them  to  rise  above  questions  of 
party  or  of  material  interest.  There  are  but  a  chosen 
few  who  understand  that  discipline,  esprit  de  corps,  and 
sacrifice  are  the  indispensable  moral  bases  of  all  progress, 
even  though  economic.  The  social  education  of  the 
youth  of  the  people  is  in  its  rudimentary  stage.  Our 
educated  youth  can  do  yeoman  service  here,  if  the  heart 
and  the  disposition  are  not  lacking. 


*  * 


The  great  dark  cloud  on  the  horizon  is  alcoholism. 
Doubtless  its  influence  is  felt  in  all  classes  of  society ; 
but  it  is,  above  all,  the  scourge  of  the  people.  It  is  a 
scourge  of  recent  date,  one  that  has  appeared  in  the 
last  thirty  or  forty  years.  Alcoholism  is  the  very  latest 
parvenu  and  a  cosmopolite.  It  can  be  assigned  no 
native  land.  It  has  become  acclimated  a  little  every- 
where. Since,  through  heredity,  it  has  entered  the 
blood  and  marrow  of  the  people,  and  has  spread  alike 
in  country  and  city,  it  has  alarmed  first  physicians  and 
lawyers,  and  little  by  little  all  thinkers.  The  race  is 
stricken  in  a  vital  spot.  Hospitals,  insane  asylums,  and 
prisons  give  daily  evidence  of  its  progress.    In  some 


118 


YOUTH. 


i 


countries  it  is  easier  to  count  those  who  are  not  than 
those  who  are  addicted  to  it.    Add  to  this  that  what 
is  now  drunk  is  radically  different  from  what  was  drunk 
in  old  times.    It  is  not  in  the  domain  of  ideas  only,  that 
our  age  has  discovered  fraud.    Its  material  as  well  as 
its  intellectual  and  moral  sustenance  is  poisoned.    Its 
favourite  drink  is  a  cheap  mixture,  adulterated  with 
spirits  made  from  beet  root  and  potatoes,  with  which 
the  great  manufactories  inundate  the  world.    It  can  be 
said  with  truth  that  it  drinks  its  death  and  that  of 
its  children.    The  future  is  poisoned,  and  coming  gen- 
erations are  doomed  to  blight,  insanity,  and  crime. 
The  consequences  of  alcoholism  —  economic,  hygienic, 
moral,  political,  and  social  —  can  never  be  calculated. 
Of  nine  tenths  of  the  ruin,  disease,  accidents,  crime, 
fanaticism,  and  popular  disturbances,  we  can  truly  ex- 
claim :  The  cause  is  alcohol. 

Alcoholism  ravages  the  youth  of  the  people  to  a 
frightful  extent.  There  is  hardly  a  form  of  amusement 
without  it.  It  disturbs  and  destroys  healthful  pleasures ; 
it  prevents  physical  culture ;  it  neutralizes  the  effects  of 
social  meetings  where  good-fellowship  and  relaxation 
are  sought.  Every  meeting,  every  excursion,  no  matter 
what  its  object,  runs  the  risk  of  ending  in  a  drinking- 
bout.  Manners  become  coarse,  and  talk  and  songs 
brutal. 

Formerly  the  city  relied  on  the  influx  of  new  blood 
from  the  fields  and  mountains  to  recruit  its  strength. 
These  reserves  are  themselves  affected.  There  are  in 
the  Vosges,  to  cite  one  example  only,  secluded  valleys 
where  the  springs  flow  ever,  where  the  air  is  pure,  and 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


119 


where  the  memory  of  man  cannot  recall  an  epidemic. 
But  alcoholism  reigns.  The  number  of  feeble  babies  is 
constantly  on  the  increase.  There  is  demoralization  in 
habits,  in  the  pocket,  and  in  the  household.  The  fruit 
of  a  life  of  labour  disappears  in  smoke.  Alcohol  is 
more  terrible  than  the  plague,  than  war,  or  any  scourge 
of  Nature-  Outward  losses  may  be  made  good,  and 
even  decay  in  the  world  of  ideas;  but  how  shall  we 
remedy  an  evil  which  devours  blood,  brains,  and 
nerves,  and  destroys  even  the  basis  of  life  ? 

Sometimes,  in  reviewing  our  civilization,  the  question 
is  asked.  What  can  menace  it  ?  It  cannot  go  down  be- 
fore an  invasion  of  barbarians  like  that  of  antiquity. 
Its  enemies,  nevertheless,  are  not  far  to  seek.  They  do 
not  swarm  on  the  distant  horizon  like  the  Huns  and 
Vandals ;  they  are  in  its  midst,  and  alcohol  is  one  of 
the  most  terrible. 

What  hope  can  there  be  for  the  future  in  a  youth 
given  over  to  alcohol  ?  A  democracy  rests  on  the  good 
sense  of  the  people,  on  the  wisdom  and  energy  of  its 
citizens,  on  the  spirit  of  order,  of  work,  of  economy. 
For  all  these  good  things  one  can  tremble  as  long  as 
absinthe  and  brandy  gain  ground.  They  are  the  bar- 
barians in  our  midst. 


You  will  say,  by  this  time,  that  I  began  so  sombre  a 
chapter  wrongly,  in  saying  that  the  life  of  the  people 
was  one  of  those  good  things  we  know  little  about.  I 
intend  to  prove  my  assertion.  The  things  of  which  I 
have  spoken  are  the  warts,  the  excrescences,  the  diseases 
which  disfigure  and  prey  on  their  life.     Yes,  it  is 


120 


YOUTH. 


unhappily  true  that  in  our  healthy  and  robust  people 
there  has  been  a  deterioration.    The  most  thoughtful 
notice  it,  and  speak  of  it  about  the  family  table,  or  tell 
you  of  it  in  confidence  when  conversation  falls  on  seri- 
ous subjects.     But,  despite  all,  the  life  of  the  people 
remains  the  great  source  of  energy,  of  courage,  of 
the  spirit  of  sacrifice,  whence  society  unceasingly  renews 
its  strength.     The  people  is  saved  from  nothingness 
by  its  hard  life,  its  labour,  and  even  its  suffering.     Its 
practical  life  nourishes  its  good  sense.    When  we  take 
the  trouble  to  look  at  it  near  at  hand,  we  see  daily  ex- 
amples  of  wonderful  patience  and  strength.     The  wo- 
men, in  especial,  are  admirable.    Some  carry  super- 
human burdens  with  a  simple  courage  which  would 
shame  men  most  hardened  to  suffering.  Some  mothers, 
besides  their  household  duties,  do  other  work,  always 
poorly  paid,  and  have  no  respite  the  whole  year  long 
outside  of  a  little  sleep.    Almost  never  is  there  any 
recreation.    An  outing,  however  small,  is  an  event. 
When  sickness  or  a  husband's  crime  comes  to  compli- 
cate matters,  one  can  fancy  what  their  life  is.    What, 
indeed,  are  the  burdens  of  those  in  easy  circumstances 
compared  with  theirs  !      What  a  life !     Compare  the 
frivolous  habits,  the  morale,  superficial  and  careless,  of 
idlers,  and  of  those  light-minded  triflers  who  consider 
life  an  idle  stroll.    Compare,  even,  the  staid  and  self- 
satisfied  life  of  the  well-to-do  bourgeois.      What  a 
judgment  does  this  comparison  pronounce  !    There  are 
ways  of  living  and  thinking  which  melt  away  like 
butter  in  the  sun  at  contact  with  the  people's  life  of 
stem  reality.    Such  a  life  is  a  perpetual  and  elevating 


THE  YOUTH  OF  THE  PEOPLE. 


121 


lesson  for  the  young.    Whether  they  will  or  no,  they 
who  have  any  heart  are  touched. 

And  it  is  precisely  because  the  life  of  the  people  con- 
tains these  precious  elements  that  we  must  preserve  and 
protect  it.  Let  us  not  forget  that  it  is  a  treasure.  To 
come  in  contact  with  it  is  one  of  the  best  ways  of  fight- 
ing against  that  artificial  world  which  clutches  and 
slays  us.  We  must  fraternize  with  the  youth  of  the 
people  for  their  good  and  for  ours. 


122 


YOUTH. 


I! 


CHAPTER  IX. 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 

IN  view  of  the  real  difficulties  which  we  encounter  in 
the  affairs  of  the  mind,  and  which  the  analogous 
phenomena  in  the  manifold  departments  of  practical 
life  render  still  more  difficult,  they  who  disparage  the 
modern  spirit  cry  shipwreck,  and  counsel  reaction. 
For  the  modern  spirit  has  furious  detractors,  who  con- 
sider the  existing  crisis  as  a  condemnation  of  a  whole 
sequence  of  centuries.  They  arraign,  at  one  and  the 
same  time,  science,  civil  and  religious  liberty,  and  all 
the  independent  movements  of  humanity,  whether  theo- 
retical or  in  practice,  and  hope  for  salvation  only  in  a 
return,  pure  and  simple,  to  the  past.  The  men  who 
share  this  point  of  view  gather  around  them  a  body  of 
youth,  and,  with  great  energy  and  a  devotion  which  in 
some  is  admirable,  try  to  detach  it  from  the  present  and 
its  aspirations,  and  imbue  it  with  the  spirit  of  the  past 
which  they  would  revive.  It  is  a  titanic  enterprise  when 
one  considers  the  amount  of  effort  necessary  and  the 
extent  of  their  scheme ;  for  this  is  what  it  proposes  to 
do,  —  to  consider  all  modern  development,  such  as  has 
come  from  the  Renaissance,  from  the  Reformation, 
from  the  Revolution,  and  from  science,  as  a  colossal 


I 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 


123 


error ;  to  efface  this  error  of  history,  and  lead  back  so- 
ciety to  the  status  quo  ante. 

Nothing  relating  to  man  should  lack  interest  to  us. 
A  reaction,  therefore,  is  often  legitimate  and  useful, 
provided  that  it  be  kept  within  limits  which  are  not  out- 
side the  general  good.  1  declare,  then,  that  I  have  no 
preconceived  antipathy  against  the  movement  of  which 
I  speak.  There  is  no  monopoly  of  good  in  any  one 
tendency  of  the  mind;  it  is  distributed  somewhat 
everywhere.  In  general,  that  which  has  no  reason  for 
existence  dies.  When  many  minds,  among  them  those 
of  men  of  great  moral  worth,  agree  in  taking  a  certain 
direction,  then,  in  the  conditions  under  which  they  live, 
there  must  be  profound  motives  to  determine  this  agree- 
ment. That  others  join  the  enterprise  with  mental 
reservations  as  to  government  or  material  interests, 
should  not  hinder  us  from  recognizing  the  sincerity  of 
the  prime  movers.  He  who  would  seek  the  truth  must 
be  just.  I  find  it  natural,  then,  that  at  critical  epochs 
characterized  by  unceasing  restlessness,  we  should  be 
haunted  by  that  grand  past  where  humanity  seemed  to 
have  found  its  utterance,  which  it  has  handed  down  as 
a  sacred  thing  to  all  its  children,  and  where  thought, 
like  life,  seemed  to  assume  of  itself  forms  as  stable  as  if 
moulded  in  brass.  So  much  solidity  and  peaceful  se- 
curity tempt  generations  like  ours,  which  are  fighting 
with  every  wind  and  every  wave.  I  can  conceive  moral 
lassitudes  which  throw  the  wearied  thinker  into  the 
arms  of  an  unchangeable  dogma ;  1  can  conceive  still 
more  the  regrets  and  indignation  which  seize  believers 
attached  to  the  holy  traditions,  the  hopes,  the  consola- 


124 


YOUTH. 


tions,  the  worship  which  make  up  religion,  when  they 
see  these  things  treated  as  old  rubbish,  and  trampled 
under  the  feet  of  ignorance  and  irreligion.  And  these 
regrets  I  shall  entertain  still,  in  face  of  the  negations,  re- 
spectful though  they  be,  of  a  materialistic  science.  At 
bottom  there  are  grand  treasures  to  defend  and  protect ; 
not  to  recognize  them  is  deliberately  to  ignore  facts, 
humanity  and  all  its  interests. 

The  chief  thing  is  to  know  whether  the  undertaking 
does  not  overreach  its  object,  and  exceed  the  power 
of  man. 

For  my  part  1  believe  that  it  does  overreach  its  ob- 
ject, and  consequently  injures  itself,  by  denying  progress 
and  the  good  that  has  come  from  the  spirit  of  tolerance, 
of  justice,  and  of  knowledge  of  the  modem  spirit ;  and 
that  it  commits  a  great  injustice  in  confounding  that 
spirit  with  atheism,  realism,  and  disorder. 

On  the  other  hand,  I  am  persuaded  that  no  human 
power,  individual  or  collective,  can  resuscitate  the  past 
as  it  was. 

It  is  with  great  apprehensions  for  itself  and  the  future 
of  the  ideas  which  are  dear  to  it  that  I  see  a  large  body 
of  youth  enrolled  in  a  work  which  would  consist  of 
suppressing  four  centuries  of  human  life,  and  substi- 
tuting for  them  a  state  of  things  that  has  disappeared. 
In  the  first  place  it  would  be  necessary  to  disassociate 
ourselves  from  the  age  we  wish  to  efface.  Its  blood 
flows  in  our  veins,  its  evils  are  ours,  we  profit  by  what 
is  good  in  it.  It  is  through  it  that  we  are  connected 
with  the  past  by  the  thread  of  inheritance.  We  are  not 
the  children  of  our  grandsires'  grandsires.     Between 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 


125 


them  and  us  there  are  intermediate  generations,  of 
which  we  bear  the  trace  in  every  fibre  of  our  body  and 
in  every  shade  of  our  thought.  To  be  a  man  of  the 
past  is  as  impossible  as  to  be  the  son  of  one's  great- 
grandfather. It  is  difficult  for  us  to  put  ourselves,  ever 
so  little,  in  the  place  of  these  ancestors  in  order  to 
understand  and  appreciate  them.  We  have  other 
standards  of  judgment,  other  methods  of  observation, 
and  other  inherited  mental  traits.  Our  world  is  in 
many  respects  a  different  one  from  theirs.  But  to  bring 
back  their  life  now,  and  to  enter  into  the  framework  of 
habits,  thought,  and  fancy  which  surrounded  them, 
would  be  equivalent  to  reconstructing  from  its  remains 
some  lost  fauna,  so  that  it  should  live  and  flourish 
among  us.  The  more  I  think  of  it,  the  more  it  seems 
to  me  that  to  live  in  the  fourteenth  century  would  be 
as  difficult  to  one  of  our  age  as  to  live  in  the  twenty- 
second. 

We  are,  therefore,  face  to  face  with  a  total  of  very 
complex  problems,  the  solution  of  the  smallest  of  which 
would  demand  superhuman  powers.  But  there  is, 
above  all,  a  very  grave  psychological  problem  closely 
connected  with  the  genesis  of  convictions  and  belief. 
When  one  says  to  youth,  *'  The  world  has  gone  astray 
for  many  centuries ;  we  must  retrace  our  steps  ;  let  us 
return  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  the  only  depository 
of  truth,  of  spiritual  authority,  and  therefore  of  tem- 
poral power,"  see  what  they  demand,  —  an  effort  of  the 
will  to  admit  en  bloc  the  whole  of  Saint  Thomas  Aquinas. 
It  is  perhaps  difficult,  they  say ;  but  what  would  you 
have :  we  are  so  ill,  and  this  alone  can  cure  us. 


126 


YOUTH. 


I 


III 


Let  us  suppose  that  we  have  decided  to  follow  their 
advice.  We  make  an  effort  of  the  will  to  believe 
en  Hoc ;  we  swallow  down  the  remedy,  notwithstand- 
ing our  repugnance.  Is  that  enough  ?  No.  This  be- 
lief which  we  have  adopted  is  inert.  No  freedom  from 
doubt,  no  life  can  spring  from  it.  It  will  act  no  more 
than  a  medicine  which  remains  in  the  stomach  just  as 
when  taken,  without  being  assimilated  and  digested.  If, 
then,  this  ensemble  of  doctrines  which  is  offered  for  our 
adoption  is  to  be  of  use,  it  is  not  sufficient  to  swallow  it, 
it  must  be  assimilated.  In  entering  an  intellectual  and 
moral  organism  like  ours,  the  past  must  undergo  a 
complete  digestion.  Our  thought  will  treat  it  after  its 
own  fashion  and  its  accustomed  laws  ;  it  will  submit  it 
to  the  test  of  experience,  to  examination ;  it  will  de- 
mand of  it,  in  short,  that  it  justify  itself.  Oh,  we  are 
far  from  demanding  a  demonstrable  belief.  Such  an 
idea  cannot  occur  to  any  one  who  possesses  the  slightest 
appreciation  of  mystery  and  the  infinite.  As  well  de- 
mand a  pocket  mountain  or  a  portable  ocean !  But  if 
the  realities  of  belief  are  not  those  which  the  intellect 
measures,  weighs,  and  adjusts,  like  arithmetical  quanti- 
ties, he  at  least  who  holds  them  must  be  in  harmony 
with  them.  Belief  is  not  like  money  which  one  drops 
into  his  purse.  To  be  ours  it  must  be  bom  in  the 
heart  of  our  existence  and  our  conscience,  and  trans- 
form itself  into  a  personal  conviction.  Otherwise  it  lies 
in  the  mind  like  a  foreign  substance. 

It  is  not  enough  to  say :  "  Everything  is  going  to 
rack  and  ruin.  If  we  could  only  believe,  hope,  and 
worship  as  our  fathers  did,  all  would  go  well.    Let  us, 


f 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 


127 


1/ 


I 


f 


then,  reassume  their  beliefs."  What  is  necessary  is  to 
be  convinced  as  they  were ;  and  to  be  convinced,  it  is 
necessary  that  our  soul  and  our  conscience  should  have 
thoroughly  approved  our  motives,  —  that  truth  should 
have  found  in  us  a  resting-place.  In  a  word,  belief  by 
the  will  is  a  snare.  One  does  not  believe  because  he 
wills  to  do  it,  but  because  he  cannot  help  himself.  Be- 
lief by  the  will  rests  entirely  on  man's  effort,  as  the 
world  of  ancient  mythology  rested  on  the  shoulders  of 
Atlas.  This  is  not  the  belief  which  saves  and  vivifies, 
and  to  which  we  wish  to  give  ourselves.  That  can  be 
only  the  result  of  experience. 

Let  us  suppose  a  man  absolutely  sincere,  and  con- 
vinced that  the  world  is  lost  if  it  does  not  return  to 
the  thought  and  rules  of  conduct  comprised  in  the  nar- 
row compass  of  traditional  authority,  but  who  has  in- 
wardly  cut  loose  from  the  old  belief.  Let  us  suppose 
that,  convinced  of  the  practical  utility  of  a  belief  which 
he  respects  but  which  he  can  no  longer  assimilate,  he 
adopts  this  belief  outwardly,  suffers  in  its  defence,  and 
ends  by  dying  for  it,  in  the  hope  that  his  sacrifice  will 
at  least  make  others  believe  what  he  could  not  himself, 
except  mechanically.  What  purpose  do  the  labours  of 
this  martyr  serve  ?  We  can  believe  in  goodness,  in  the 
triumph  of  love,  in  the  things  holy  and  humane  which 
have  made  a  good  man  meet  death,  —  we  can  believe, 
perhaps,  in  the  martyr  himself,  though  not  in  his  prin- 
ciples. For  these  to  be  shared,  they  must  be  a  part  of 
our  life.    Fire  alone  sets  on  fire. 

Herein  is  the  secret  of  the  weakness  of  many  of  the 
advocates  of  the  past. 


128 


YOUTH. 


I 


The  reaction  which  would  replace  the  modem  spirit 
outsteps  its  authority  too  far,  when  it  speaks  in  the 
name  of  the  past.  It  does  not  represent  all  the  past,  — 
neither  all  the  past  of  religion,  nor  all  the  past  of  Chris- 
tianity. Its  champions  represent  certain  stages  of  that 
past  formulated  into  rules  of  life,  and  certain  forms  of 
religious  thought  formulated  into  doctrines.  But  there 
have  been  developed  in  the  vast  regions  of  religious 
life  flowers  of  a  richness  unheard  of,  which  the  Church 
has  never  cultivated.  In  its  own  garden  trees  have 
grown  which  it  has  tried  to  uproot,  and  others  which 
it  has  first  mutilated,  but  whose  fruits  it  has  afterward 
borrowed.  Ought  humanity  to  deprive  itself  of  all  the 
good  not  produced  in  one  particular  period  of  the  past  ? 
And  the  evil  which  this  past  has  done,  —  must  it  be 
forgotten  and  submitted  to  anew  ? 

if  the  question  presented  itself  thus:  On  the  one 
hand  scientific  materialism,  scepticism,  the  sum  total 
of  negations  which  strip  humanity  of  its  nobility, 
disorder,  and  unbelief,  and  on  the  other  side  all  belief, 
all  hope,  and  all  the  virtues,  —  it  would  be  different.  We 
should  not  hesitate  a  minute.  These  practical  results 
would  be  in  themselves  alone  the  most  irrefutable  proofs 
of  the  truth  of  tradition.  But  the  question  cannot  be 
so  stated.  If  we  were  so  to  state  it,  we  should  do 
wrong.  We  should  be  lacking  in  respect  for  the  youth 
we  are  bringing  up,  who  take  us  at  our  word.  In  not 
recognizing  the  good  which  others  have  done,  we  should 
fail  in  respect  for  the  truth.  In  short,  in  order  to  raise 
humanity,  we  should  belittle  it,  and  as  a  consequence 
ourselves. 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 


129 


More  modesty  and  impartiality  would  make  the 
champions  of  the  past  infinitely  stronger.  Why  do 
they  not  learn  from  that  past  which  is  their  hereditary 
fief,  a  grand  and  salutary  lesson  ? 

Its  world,  to-day  crystallized  and  mummified,  has 
been  the  most  active,  the  most  full  of  variety,  the  most 
susceptible  of  adaptation,  of  which  history  has  preserved 
an  example.  It  has  known  how  to  place  itself  on  the 
highest  level  of  antique  culture,  and  to  descend  to  the 
lowest  and  most  ignorant.  It  has  known  Greeks  and 
Barbarians  alike.  It  was  at  ease  in  power  and  in  slavery, 
in  opulence  and  in  misery.  It  has  spoken  all  tongues, 
has  travelled  all  roads,  and  its  heart  has  throbbed  for  all 
that  makes  man's  heart  throb.  And  what  a  life,  what 
popularity,  what  social  power  it  has  had !  It  began  to 
lose  a  part  of  its  influence  only  when  it  became  wrapped 
in  egoism,  routine,  and  immobility.  In  proportion  as 
it  withdrew  from  the  grand  life  of  nations,  has  life  died 
out  in  it.  There  is  thus  one  hope  only  for  you  who 
admire  and  sincerely  love  this  grand  past:  it  is  to 
imitate  what  was  best  and  most  humanizing  in  it.  It  is 
necessary  for  you  to  be  broadened,  to  be  transformed, 
to  practise  self-denial  on  a  large  scale,  to  cease  to  be 
behind  the  age  of  ideas,  —  even  religious  ideas, — and 
to  go  forward  resolutely  hand  in  hand  with  whoever 
loves  and  prays  for  man  on  earth. 

All  this  is  said  on  the  supposition  that  the  reaction  is 
serious  and  honest.  But  there  is  a  reaction  which  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  consider  as  serious.  It  is  a  kind  of 
religious  dilettanteism  which  has  made  certain  youthful 

9 


130 


YOUTH. 


minds  take  delight  in  all  sorts  of  old  symbols,  without 
increase  of  belief  on  that  account,  and  above  all  with- 
out any  idea  of  making  of  their  religiosity  a  means  of 
sanctification  and  of  pure  living.  They  seek  in  religion 
aesthetic  and  archaeological  enjoyment.  They  hang  in 
their  rooms  old  chasubles,  statuettes  of  the  saints ;  they 
play  at  a  monastic  life,  and  saturate  themselves  with  the 
perfume  of  incense,  the  murmur  of  prayers,  sacred 
music,  and  the  soft  and  peaceful  light  which  falls 
through  cathedral  windows ;  and  believe  that  they  pay 
great  respect  to  the  clergy  in  saying  to  them  that  they 
possess  the  Gospels  and  books  of  the  hours  bound  in 
very  old  parchment,  that  they  carry  crucifixes  hidden  in 
their  breast,  and  dip  their  fingers  in  holy  water.  They  call 
this  a  reaction,  rolling  up  their  eyes  sanctimoniously. 
This  a  reaction !  Let  us  not  play  with  words,  and 
above  all  with  holy  things.  To  eat  from  a  bishop's 
dish,  or  to  drink  wine  from  a  chalice,  does  not  entitle 
a  man  to  call  himself  a  Christian.  Such  religion  is 
like  that  old  furniture,  heavy  and  severe,  in  which  our 
age,  by  a  singular  contrast,  loves  often  to  surround  as 
with  a  setting  its  frivolous  habits  and  its  idle  conversa- 
tion. It  is  a  bibelot ;  that  is  all.  My  opinion  is  that  one 
does  it  more  honour  by  combating  it  than  by  render- 
ing it  such  bizarre  homage. 


« 
*  * 


What  shall  we  say  of  another  kind  of  reaction, —  that 
which  is  only  a  political  manoeuvre,  under  the  cloak  of 
morality  and  religion  ?  It  must  be  stigmatized  as  the 
worst  of  profanations  and  the  latest  hypocrisy.  As  all 
sincere  conviction  and  even  all  compulsory  belief  is 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 


131 


I 


sympathetic  to  us,  so  this  impious  speculation  with  sacred 
things  fills  us  with  horror.  For  belief  here  is  only  a 
servant,  a  slave  liable  to  the  worst  treatment.  If  any- 
thing could  make  us  despise  it,  it  would  certainly  be 
this  dishonouring  connection  with  political  intrigue  and 
knavery.  A  youth  which  was  brought  up  in  this  at- 
mosphere could  not  be  otherwise  at  bottom  than  scep- 
tical. Belief  can  be  worthy  of  respect  only  when  it  is 
disinterested,  compassionate,  and  when  he  who  professes 
it  is  ready  on  its  behalf  for  all  sacrifices.  The  day  when 
an  ambitious  man  uses  it  to  push  himself  in  the  world, 
or  a  common  man  to  gain  his  bread,  it  is  no  longer  be- 
lief ;  it  is  something  which  has  no  name,  but  which  is 
more  sad  and  more  frightful  than  nothingness. 


There  remains  to  us  the  exposition  of  a  reaction 
purely  political,  without  reservation  on  the  side  of  reli- 
gion or  philosophy ;  a  sort  of  restoration  of  arbitrary 
power,  a  rule  of  the  sabre  and  the  cross,  intended  to 
keep  the  appetites  in  check,  and  extolled  by  certain  young 
ranters  whom  democratic  principles  irritate.  Oderint 
dum  metuanty  they  exclaim,  quoting  a  celebrated  phrase 
which  he  whom  it  is  the  custom  to  call  the  old  apos- 
tle of  force  put  in  execution  for  more  than  twenty 
years.  I  do  not  believe  in  the  success  of  a  reaction  of 
this  kind,  either  in  France  or  elsewhere.  The  first  con- 
dition of  a  strong  despotism  is  that  it  believes  in  itself. 
It  must,  without  stumbling  or  blinking,  go  to  any  length, 
advancing  over  wills  and  hearts  like  a  pitiless  wheel  of 
brass.  The  secret  weakness  of  the  despotic  powers  of 
our  day  is  that  they  have  lost  faith  in  themselves.    The 


132 


YOUTH, 


I 


modem  spirit  has  affected  them  in  spite  of  themselves. 
It  has  shaken  also  the  heart  of  the  masses.  Deprived 
thus  of  its  double  support,  —  discredited  with  those 
who  employ  it,  and  with  those  whom  it  ought  to  sub- 
due, —  force  loses  ground  daily.  This  great  despiser  of 
immaterial  realities  depends,  after  all,  on  conditions  of 
the  mind.  And  these  conditions  no  one  can  modify  at 
will,  because  they  are  not  the  result  of  arbitrary  effort, 
but  of  necessity.  Every  one  must  thoroughly  realize 
that  despotic  power  has  been  dethroned  in  the  world 
since  it  has  been  dethroned  in  the  human  soul.  The  great 
thing  which  is  being  accomplished  in  different  degrees 
in  the  heart  of  civilized  society,  no  matter  what  its  form 
of  government,  and  which  neither  the  regrets  of  some 
nor  the  excesses  of  others  can  arrest,  is  the  evolution  of 
temporal  power,  which  is  based  on  coercion,  into  spir- 
itual power,  which  is  moral  authority,  and  is  based  on 
respect  and  conviction.  All  social  functions,  low  or 
high,  from  that  of  the  parent  to  the  highest  office  of 
government,  are  undergoing  a  slow  transformation.  An 
office  no  longer  honours  the  man ;  the  man  must  hon- 
our the  office.  Can  we  turn  back  from  this  evolution 
of  public  spirit,  which  does  not  consist  of  changeable 
surface  phenomena,  but  touches  the  very  essence  of 
things,  and  makes  itself  felt  in  all  departments  ?  To  ad- 
mit  such  a  thing  would  be  to  have  no  conception  of 
the  force  of  ideas.  It  would  be  more  easy  to  seize  a 
mountain  by  its  base  and  hold  it  at  arms'  length,  than 
to  change  an  idea  grounded  on  conscience  and  the  good 
sense  of  humanity,  and  built  up  grain  by  grain  by  the 
long  labours  of  experience. 


YOUTH  AND  REACTION. 


133 


We  conclude,  then,  that  salvation  will  not  come 
through  a  reaction  against  the  modern  spirit.  Instead 
of  trying  to  arouse  a  noble  band  of  youth  to  isolate  it- 
self from  the  world  in  behalf  of  special  interests,  and 
to  oppose  like  a  ram  the  age  which  is  moving  forward 
and  will  move  none  the  less,  make  rather  an  alli- 
ance with  what  is  good  in  it,  in  order  to  fight  against 
that  which  is  injurious.  If  you  can  contribute  anything 
to  it,  do  it  disinterestedly.  That  will  be  the  best  way 
to  preserve  for  the  world  the  good  that  is  within  you, 
for  which  you  fight.  I  may  add  that  it  will  be  the  most 
Christian  way  to  fulfil  your  important  mission. 


I 


134 


YOUTH. 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


« 


h     i 


CHAPTER  X. 

PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 

I  fear  that  the  work  of  the  twentieth  century  will 
consist  in  taking  out  of  the  waste-basket  a  multi- 
tude of  excellent  ideas  which  the  nineteenth  cen- 
tury has  heedlessly  thrown  into  it. 

E.  Renan.i 

T^HE  impression  of  disorder  which  we  experienced 
*  in  drawing  off  a  balance-sheet  of  existing  society 
has  increased  in  proportion  as  we  continue  our  wallc 
through  youth.  Confusion  and  anarchy  seem  the  terms 
best  fitted  to  express  its  mental  state.  In  all  that  we 
have  seen,  there  is  but  a  continuation  and  an  aggrava- 
tion of  what  has  gone  before.  If  we  had  only  this  to 
say,  our  book  would  be  very  depressing.  We  should 
never  have  written  it.  What  would  be  the  use  of  saying 
that  decadence  is  going  on,  and  that  we  are  taking  the 
downward  road  with  an  ever-quickening  step  ?  Happily, 
this  is  not  all.  What  we  have  stated  thus  far  is  only 
the  dark  side  of  the  situation.  There  is  an  entirely 
different  side,  and  one  as  real,  which  we  have  intention- 
ally reserved  for  the  end. 

The  first  important  point  to  consider  is  the  spirit  of 
disenchantment  which  more  and  more  underlies  char- 

^  Reception  de  M.  Jules  Claretie. 


135 


\n 


acter.  They  who  could  enjoy  living  in  a  world  without 
faith,  without  hope,  and  without  love  are  few  indeed. 
Even  cynics  have  their  days  of  depression.  The  world, 
such  as  it  has  become,  pleases  very  few  people.  This  is 
not  a  bad  sign.  Doubtless  disenchantment  of  itself 
alone  effects  little ;  but  it  amounts  always  to  a  general 
confession  of  insufficiency.  We  can  see  in  it  the  nega- 
tive form  of  an  aspiration  toward  a  better  state.  This 
aspiration  makes  itself  felt  in  those  who,  warned  by 
disenchantment,  ask  if  we  have  not  taken  the  wrong 
road.  How  many  men,  and  above  all  young  men,  have 
been  asking  this  little  question  of  themselves  for  some 
time }  Others  more  advanced  are  positively  certain 
that  we  have  taken  the  wrong  road.  For  them  the  ex- 
perience of  materialistic  science  and  of  realism  is  con- 
clusive on  this  point.  The  tree  is  judged  by  its  fruits  ; 
it  is  bad.  Our  spiritual  and  our  material  life  languish 
because  sacred  and  underlying  laws  have  been  broken. 
But  it  is  not  enough  to  be  disenchanted,  nor  even  to 
demand  change.  We  have  tried  to  show  this  in  speak- 
ing of  reaction  among  youth.  How  would  society  be 
helped  by  going  from  one  excess  to  another .?  That 
would  be  to  try  to  cure  itself  of  one  mutilation  by  a 
fresh  mutilatio/i  of  a  different  kind.  The  world,  which 
reaction  invites  us  to  enter  to  make  us  whole,  has  also 
had  its  trials.  Humanity  has  not  waited  until  this  cen- 
tury to  find  itself  in  a  strait,  and  even  to  feel  stifled. 
It  is  improbable  that  the  lessons  of  history  should  be 
forgotten  by  intelligent  youth  to  such  an  extent  as  to 
render  a  general  reactionary  movement  probable.  It  is 
enough,  then,  to  observe  what  is  passing,  to  convince 


136 


YOUTH. 


) 


l! 

II 


W: 


I  ^ 


US  that  reactionary  tendencies,  properly  so  called,  are 
met  only  exceptionally,  outside  of  the  surroundings  es- 
pecially created  to  bring  them  into  existence  and  to 
cultivate  them. 

Young  men  of  independent  thought,  profoundly 
moved  by  existing  problems,  are  seeking  for  them  a 
solution  less  narrow  and  less  illusory.  A  daily  in- 
creasing number  begin  to  understand  that  if  there  is  a 
means  of  salvation  it  is  in  getting  back  to  a  normal 
life,  in  returning  to  fundamental  principles,  to  the  rudi- 
ments of  things ;  it  is  in  absorbing  the  good  from  far 
and  near,  both  past  and  present,  wherever  it  finds  the 
smallest,  and  in  renouncing  exclusive  tendencies  and 
party  interests  in  order  to  become  again  simply  men. 

In  this  path,  which  a  part  of  our  youth  is  about  to 
take,  it  has  had  forerunners.  It  was  impossible  that 
the  state  of  things  which  for  so  many  years  has  existed 
in  the  world  should  not  have  affected  certain  minds. 
Could  it  ultimately  have  escaped  those  who  think  and  go 
to  the  bottom  of  phenomena,  that  scientific  materialism, 
industrialism,  militarism,  utilitarianism,  all  that  sum 
total  of  products  which  reaction  tries  to  lay  to  the  ac- 
count of  the  modern  spirit,  were  the  most  brutal  nega- 
tions? It  was  not  possible.  That  happened  which 
could  not  but  happen.  Men  by  whom  the  contradic- 
tions of  the  century  have  been  strongly  felt  have  not 
ceased  for  an  instant  to  point  them  out,  to  brand  excess 
whether  in  theory  or  in  practice,  and  to  uphold  amid 
the  greatest  discouragements  the  standard  of  human 
dignity,  of  the  sanctity  of  spiritual  things,  of  the  high 
authority  of  conscience,  and  of  all  the  realities  which 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


137 


the  so-called  positive  conception  of  existence,  as  well  as 
the  old  dogmatic  spirit,  treated  as  chimeras. 

To  cite  from  this  phalanx  two  great  names  only,  I 
will  mention  Edgar  Quinet  and  Michelet,  true  prophets 
of  the  modern  spirit.     A  flood  of  literature  of  every 
kind  has  drowned  their  voices,  but  what  they  have  said 
is  as  true  now  as  in  their  day ;  more  true,  even,  because  it 
seems  as  if  truth  became  more  striking  as  it  makes  pro- 
gress against  falsehood.    These  men,  than  whom  none 
could  be  less  suspected  of  denouncing  science  or  democ- 
racy, have  never  ceased  to  point  out  their  abuses  and 
their  errors,  while  inveighing  against  the  old  world  of 
dogmatism.   They  have  learned  at  the  school  of  history 
respect  for  the  soul  of  man  in  the  integrity  of  its  aspira- 
tions and  its  rights,  and  a  hatred  for  all  tyrannies ;  and 
it  is  for  this  reason  that  their  words  breathe  a  lofty  im- 
partiality, the  result  of  the  harmony  within.    They  have 
found  that  golden  mean,  so  hard  to  hold,  about  which 
error  and  excess  have  made  society  oscillate  unceasingly 
from  scepticism  to  belief,  from  anarchy  to  despotism. 
The  direction  they  have  indicated  is  the  one  wherein 
must  be  sought  the  solution  of  the  problems  which 
harass  us.    It  goes  without  saying  that  I  speak  of  direc- 
tion in  general,  and  that  I  do  not  swear  by  the  state- 
ments of  any  one  man. 

Here,  first,  is  an  extract  from  Edgar  Quinet,  very 
touching  as  a  prognostication  of  the  future :  "  The  bee 
prepares  in  advance  food  for  the  larvae  about  to  hatch. 
Let  us  do  as  the  bee  does.  Let  us  prepare  food  for  the 
world  about  to  be  born,  and  place  it  beside  its  cradle." 
In  the  same  book,  l' Esprit  nouveau,  we  read :  **  When 


r 


138 


YOUTH. 


I  see  the  storms  of  passion  which  sway  existing  genera- 
tions, and  the  kind  of  delirium  which  seizes  every  one, 
I  say  to  myself  that  it  is  not  from  too  great  ambition 
that  I  desire  to  restore  equilibrium  to  so  many  unbridled 
spirits.  The  age  which  contains  such  great  evils  surely 
contains  their  remedy,  —  near  at  hand,  perhaps  even 
lying  at  our  very  feet. 

"  The  mariner  in  the  tempest  often  makes  himself 
fast  to  the  mainmast,  that  he  may  not  be  swept  away 
by  the  winds.  I,  in  like  manner,  attach  myself  to  that 
which  1  have  found  most  fixed  about  me,  — to  the  ideas 
and  the  truths  which  will  outlive  us  all. 

"  What  is  necessary  to-day  to  lift  us  out  of  the  abyss, 
—  an  hour  of  sincerity." 

Let  us  copy  a  page  from  Michelet,  which  seems  to 
have  been  written  yesterday,  so  well  does  it  sum  up  the 
present  situation :  — 

"  One  fact  is  incontestable.  In  the  midst  of  so  much 
material  and  intellectual  progress  the  moral  sense  has 
been  lowered.  Everything  is  advancing  and  develop- 
ing ;  one  thing  alone  grows  less,  —  the  soul. 

"  At  this  truly  solemn  moment,  when  the  network  of 
electric  wires  is  extending  over  the  whole  world,  cen- 
tralizing its  thought  and  making  it  acquainted  with 
itself,  what  soul  are  we  to  give  it  ?  And  what  would 
happen  if  old  Europe,  from  which  it  expects  everything, 
should  contribute  only  an  impoverished  soul  ? 

"  Europe  is  old,  but  she  is  also  young  in  the  sense 
that  she  has  the  genius  of  rejuvenescence  against  cor- 
ruption. She  alone  knows,  sees,  and  foresees.  If  she 
wills  it,  all  is  safe." 


■J 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


139 


This  spirit,  happily,  though  it  has  never  ceased  to  act, 
has  begun  to  rise  with  a  new  vigour  in  all  departments 
of  our  national  education. 

It  is  doing  there  a  work  slow  but  far  reaching,  whose 
favourable  results  are  daily  more  pronounced.  I  can- 
not wish  other  proofs  than  certain  passages  which  I 
shall  cite,  adding  thereto  my  prayers  that  they  may  be 
fruitful  in  practice. 

Here,  first,  are  extracts  from  two  addresses  by  the 
minister  of  public  instruction.  Monsieur  Ldon  Bourgeois, 
—  delivered  at  the  Concours  gineraux,  1890  and  I891. 

In  the  first  of  these  addresses,  the  speaker,  after 
having  described  the  different  systems  of  instruction  in 
the  past  of  our  nation,  thus  expresses  himself :  — 

"  Our  system  of  education  should  certainly  be 
broader.  Nothing  in  its  past  is  without  interest" or  use 
to  it.  A  great  French  philosopher  thus  defined,  a  few 
days  ago  only,  the  aim  of  t)ur  instruction :  *  It  ought 
to  make  the  evolution  of  mankind,  with  all  that  is  best 
in  it,  an  individual  evolution.* 

"  All  the  philosophic  conditions,  whose  sequence  we 
have  recalled,  have  been  preparatory  to  the  modem 
spirit  of  humanity.  All  the  results  of  culture,  too,  have 
been  of  partial  use.  Our  task  should  be  to  recognize 
and  preserve  whatever  good  either  of  them  can  still 
contribute  toward  the  formation  and  development  of  a 
contemporary  spirit." 

The  address  of  I891  accentuates  the  preceding, 
marking  thus  the  fixity  and  the  energy  of  the  move- 
ment :  — 

"  Have  an  ideal.    An  ideal  is  not  merely,  amid  the 


t' 


I  . 


1 1 


!) 


140 


YOUTH. 


stifling  atmosphere  of  human  egoism,  a  breath  of  pure 
air  which  revives  and  vivifies ;  it  is  not,  above  the  doubts 
of  daily  existence,  a  light  which  guides  and  saves  us : 
it  is  something  more  than  all  this.  I  can  express  it  in  a 
single  phrase,  —  to  have  an  ideal  is  to  have  a  reason  for 
living. 

"  We  are  preparing  our  youth  not  for  such  or  such 
a  career,  but  for  life.  If  to  give  a  man  an  ideal  is  to 
give  a  direction  to  his  whole  life,  a  motive  and  a  spring 
to  his  whole  existence,  we  should  find  in  it  the  aim  of 
our  education,  —  the  highest  duty  of  the  master. 

**  A  year  ago  I  tried  to  show  how  necessary  it  is  to 
the  university  to  be  a  unit  of  thought  and  learning  in 
shaping  the  intelligence  of  the  youth  of  France.  How 
much  more  necessary  still  is  this  unity  of  learning  in 
the  work  of  moral  education,  if  the  university  wishes  to 
attain  its  true  object,  to  be  what  it  should  be,  and  that 
which  the  country  demands  of  it,  —  the  centre  where 
are  concentrated  all  the  movements  of  the  national  con- 
science, and  whence  they  are  reflected  on  each  new 
generation,  —  giving  thus  an  impulse  and  life  to  the 
conscience  of  every  one  of  its  children. 

"  When  I  speak  of  this  unity  of  learning,  need  I  add 
that  it  does  not  concern  itself  with  forcing  on  the  mind 
a  system  of  philosophy,  and  of  promulgating  I  know 
not  what  metaphysical  dogma  on  the  nature  of  good 
and  evil  ?  The  university  of  the  republic  respects  all 
beliefs,  and  gives  an  example  of  tolerance  to  its  most  in- 
tolerant  adversaries.  Whatever  opinion  one  may  pro- 
fess on  the  problems  which  are  eternally  propounded  to 
the  limited  intelligence  of  man,  the  idea  of  good  exists. 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


141 


and,  as  a  great  French  philosopher  has  said,  that  idea  is 
a  fact,  and  that  fact  is  a  force.  And  since  society  has 
existed,  this  force  has  not  ceased  to  act  on  the  world  in 
tempering  violence,  in  diminishing  inequalities,  in  sub- 
stituting justice  for  despotism,  liberty  for  constraint,  soli- 
darity for  hostility,  in  enlarging  unceasingly  the  sphere 
of  each  man's  duty  toward  others  ;  and  notwithstanding 
backslidings,  notwithstanding  partial  defeats  of  truth 
and  right,  notwithstanding  transient  apotheoses  of  arbi- 
trary power,  in  bringing  humanity  each  day  nearer  the 
higher  levels  of  peace,  equipoise,  and  reconciliation." 

It  is  a  genuine  anxiety  for  the  future  that  runs  through 
these  words.  When  we  are  concerned  with  problems  of 
education,  the  emptiness  of  some  kinds  of  learning  ap- 
pears to  us  more  evident  than  at  other  times.  To  test 
the  merits  of  a  system  of  theology,  or  even  of  no  matter 
what  principles  of  thought  and  conduct,  it  is  enough  to 
weigh  their  educational  value.  All  which  cannot  be 
boldly  taught  youth  is  of  no  value.  It  was  then  very 
natural  that  the  men  charged  with  the  responsibility  of 
a  thorough  national  education  should  propound  ques- 
tions such  as  these  :  — 

"  On  what  will  our  successors  live  if  they  no  longer 
believe  in  anything,  hope  for  anything,  nor  respect 
anything  ?  What  will  support  and  console  them,  and 
give  them  strength  to  live  and  die  in  peace  ? " 

We  are  men  as  were  our  fathers.  Notwithstanding 
outward  changes,  our  hearts  have  the  same  needs  as 
theirs.  Can  it  be  that  what  inspired  them  has  disap- 
peared from  the  world  ?  Doubtless  our  conceptions 
have  changed,  our  interpretation  of  the  universe  is 


142 


YOUTH. 


modified.  We  are  forced  in  the  name  of  experience  to 
protest  against  certain  beliefs,  and  to  refuse  our  assent 
to  them.  We,  too,  have  our  non  possumus.  But  under 
the  decaying  forms  of  other  days,  are  there  no  perma- 
nent realities  which  can  aid  us.?  There  is  no  such 
stimulant  to  labour  as  necessity,  no  such  seeker  as 
hunger.  The  frightful  poverty  of  our  spiritual  life  has 
inspired  us  with  salutary  reflections.  We  must,  then, 
turn  again  to  the  past,  not  in  a  servile  spirit,  but  to 
seize  its  soul  and  make  it  live  anew.  For  the  light  of  a 
new  day  has  come  to  this  past  which  seemed  to  be  dis- 
appearing in  the  mists.  As  we  see  that  it  too  reached 
the  truth,  feeling  its  way  through  devious  paths,  and 
building  piece  by  piece  its  spiritual  habitation,  we  have 
understood  it  better  than  those  who  have  shown  it  to 
us  en  bloc  as  a  cold  heraldic  creation.  Under  their 
rigid  forms  we  have  found  life,  warmth,  the  bloom  of 
birth  and  development.  Thus,  drawn  near  us  by  the 
intimate  relations  which  history  has  opened,  our  fathers 
give  us  that  counsel  which  sums  up  all  spiritual  pater- 
nity :  "  Add  the  best  of  that  which  you  have  conquered 
to  the  best  of  that  which  we  have  left  you,  and  you  will 
live  and  will  remake  a  country  of  the  soul." 


* 
*  # 


Preoccupations  analogous  to  those  we  have  noticed 
engage  the  flower  of  our  youth.  While  the  greater 
number  continue  to  drift  with  the  current  of  realism, 
some  have  come  out  from  it  and  look  toward  other  hori- 
zons. The  life  of  to-day  is  hard  for  the  youth  who  thinks. 
There  are  so  many  things  to  unsettle  it  and  so  few  to 


i 


If 


I 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


143 


establish  it.  Amid  the  ruins  of  old  beliefs  and  the 
materials  still  unwrought  of  the  new  edifice,  out  of  har- 
mony with  the  tendencies  of  the  times,  and  surrounded 
by  social  troubles  and  by  the  relics  of  barbarism  which 
our  age  drags  behind  it,  like  hideous  rags  beneath  a 
king's  robe,  this  youth  has  early  come  to  feel  anxiety 
for  the  future.  The  spectacle  of  scandals,  of  follies, 
•>^  of  narrowness,  of  the  abuse  of  brute  force,  of  con- 
flicting interests,  of  all  the  great  strife  of  men  and 
things,  has  inspired  in  it  a  noble  loathing  and  a  mighty 
desire  for  justice  and  moderation. 

This  desire  shows  itself  in  intellectual  orientation,  by 
a  warm  and  kindly  interest  in  all  the  manifestations  of 
human  intelligence.  Young  men  have  come  to  be- 
lieve —  a  rare  thing  at  their  age,  but  a  sign  of  the  times 
—  that  truth  is  no  longer  included  in  a  formula,  but  that 
it  exists  somewhat  wherever  man  has  thought,  investi- 
gated, or  suffered  anything  interesting  or  true.  Doubt- 
less this  turn  of  mind  recalls  the  multiform  curiosity  of 
dilettanteism,  but  it  is  also  often  an  indication  of  that 
discreet  reserve  and  of  that  desire  for  enlightenment 
which  is  the  most  favourable  disposition  in  the  search 
for  truth.  In  a  recent  toast  the  present  president  of 
V Association  des  itudiants  has  characterized  this  kind 
of  existence  in  a  way  which  strikes  in  a  refreshing 
fashion  at  party  spirit:  — 

"  Our  association  is  not  one  of  those  enlisted  under 
the  ephemeral  standards  of  ambition,  class,  and  party 
passions.  It  pursues  slowly  but  surely  a  work  of  peace 
and  knowledge  only.  It  has  the  highest  respect  for  the 
individual  conscience ;  it  leaves  untouched  the  personal 


144 


YOUTH. 


convictions,  the  beliefs,  whether  politial  or  reli^ous,  of 
every  man.  It  is  not  drawn  to  any  party,  to  any  sect. 
It  claims  to  be,  before  everything,  —  though  not  for- 
mally so  called,  —  the  youth  of  France,  and  especially  the 
scholastic  youth.  We  are  and  we  wish  to  continue  to  be 
students,  —  those  at  least  who  are  true  to  the  scientific 
spirit,  which  is  a  spirit  of  disinterested  tolerance,  and  to 
the  democratic  spirit,  which  is  a  spirit  of  justice  and 
kindness.  There  are  two  great  anxieties  only  common 
to  us  all,  — the  anxiety  for  the  highest  possible  intellec- 
tual development,  and  the  anxiety  for  social  ameliora- 
tion ;  for  the  first  produces  individuality,  the  second 
purifies  it.  Above  the  beliefs  that  divide  us  are  the 
aspirations  which  draw  us  together ;  it  is  these  which 
we  prefer."^ 

To  describe  further  the  dominant  trait  of  this  youth, 
which  is  a  respectful  independence,  I  will  say  that  it 
loves  science,  that  it  considers  it  as  one  of  the  supports 
of  humanity,  that  it  knows  what  we  owe  to  it  and  what 
to  hope  from  the  exactness  of  its  methods.  Gladly 
does  it  applaud  words  like  these :  — 

"  Time  will  doubtless  revise,  it  will  perhaps  utterly 
destroy,  some  of  the  results  acquired  by  contemporary 
science,  —  our  systems  of  synthesis  will  perhaps  last  us 
no  better  than  theirs  lasted  our  predecessors ;  but  our 
methods  of  analysis,  our  rational  view  of  the  world,  the 
general  orientation  of  the  scientific  spirit,  —  these  are 
acquisitions  which  can  never  hereafter  perish  except  in 
a  total  downfall  of  civilization.  This  conviction  has 
become  the  very  basis  of  our  understanding.    On  this 

^  H.  B/renger,  Banquet  de  V  Association,  I891. 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


145 


unassailable  foundation  all  our  rebuilding  will  be 
done."  ^ 

At  the  same  time  it  takes  into  consideration  the  limi- 
tations of  science  and  its  weaknesses:  "We  must 
before  all  recognize  that  neither  science  nor  democ- 
racy is  sufficient  to  itself.  Without  the  higher  law 
which  reconciles  them,  they  are  only  blind  and  barbaric 
forces.  Science  is  not  sufficient  in  itself.  In  what,  in- 
deed, do  all  the  highest  scientific  generalizations  end,  if 
not  in  the  idea  of  movement,  itself  incomprehensible 
without  the  mysterious  idea  of  force,  —  that  is  to  say,  a 
purely  pyschological  idea  ?  The  origin  of  all  modern 
science  is  a  self-evident  truth  borrowed  from  the  mind 
itself.  Democracy,  too,  is  not  sufficient  in  itself.  It 
would  be  simply  a  savage  fight  of  classes  and  interests, 
if  it  were  not  dominated  by  the  spirit  of  justice  and  of 
charity.  It  is  then,  finally,  the  mind  and  its  highest, 
most  active,  and  most  fruitful  principle,  love,  which 
ought  to  direct  modern  evolution."^ 

There  is,  at  the  bottom  of  this,  thorough  sincerity  and 
a  fine  spirit  of  justice.  Many  conversations,  investiga- 
tions made  in  various  centres  of  study,  and  the  reading 
of  those  varied  and  ephemeral  productions  which  fill 
the  papers  and  the  reviews  of  the  young,  have  convinced 
me  that  these  tendencies  are  not  isolated.  A  new  orien- 
tation announces  itself. 

We  can  nowadays  hear  young  men,  preoccupied 
with  intellectual  affairs,  scoff  at  those  two  terrible  god- 
desses, analysis  and  criticism.    Not  that  they  discredit 

^  M.  de  VogM,  Banquet  de  V  Association,  I890. 
*  H.  Birenger,  Bulletin  de  V Association,  fevr.  189O. 

10 


146 


YOUTH. 


the  spirit  of  discernment,  and  after  having  despised 
mystery  fall  in  the  opposite  extreme  of  denying  the 
rights  of  reason  and  judgment;  but  they  consider 
that  criticism,  which  is  based  on  the  point  of  view  of 
positive  science,  when  applied  at  random  to  the  affairs 
of  the  intellect  becomes  an  aberration.  To  use  the 
judgment  in  this  way,  is  to  lack  judgment.  Each  lock 
must  be  opened  with  its  own  key.  One  kind  of  criti- 
cism would  simply  suppress  history  by  its  mode  of  con- 
ceiving historic  certainty,  as  it  suppressed  spiritual  reali- 
ties by  obstinately  refusing  to  call  facts  those  only  which 
are  facts  in  a  material  sense.  That  grand  truth  so  author- 
itatively proclaimed  by  H.  Lotze,  "  the  role  of  mech- 
anism in  the  world  is  as  universal  as  it  is  absolutely 
subordinate,"  ^  is  slowly  making  its  way  in  our  minds. 
Analysis  carried  to  extremes,  which  had  reached  the 
point  of  causing  real  disease  in  the  young,  sees  its 
prestige  diminish.  In  vain  it  calls  itself  inexorable,  its 
charm  is  broken  for  many.  They  do  not  feel  them- 
selves face  to  face  with  a  hundred-eyed  monster  who  sees 
everything,  and  searches  the  very  bones  and  marrow,  but 
face  to  face  with  a  gratuitous  and  sometimes  ridiculous 
pretence.  They  are  irreverent  enough  to  find  that  the 
analysis  which  aligns  in  formulas  and  by  measure  our 
being,  our  feelings,  thought,  and  life,  is  most  of  the  time 
only  like  dismemberment  or  sleight  of  hand.  In  this 
fashion  do  our  children  analyze  their  dolls,  and  clever 
jugglers  make  mountains  of  things  come  out  of  a  hat. 
He  who  claims  to  have  analyzed  us  should  be  able  to  put 
us  together  again  after  he  has  taken  us  apart.    The  time 

*  H.  Lotie :  Mikrokosmos. 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


147 


has  passed  when  an  abstract  knowledge  of  our  mate- 
rial being  sufficed  us  to  explain  man.  Problems  come 
to  life,  of  which  those  who  call  thought  a  secretion  of 
the  brain,  have  no  idea,  and  which  are  not  suspected  by 
those  «iinds  in  which  psychology  seems  to  be  con- 
founded with  physiology.  That  little  phrase  /  know, 
formerly  so  sure  of  itself  and  so  self-satisfied,  meets  in- 
credulity everywhere.  The  sense  of  mystery,  which  is 
indeed  but  one  of  the  forms  of  the  sense  of  reality,  has 
•  awakened  in  face  of  the  unknown.  That  no  one  can 
explain  life ;  that  no  one  can  bridge  the  abyss  which 
separates  material  action  from  thought,  from  the  sim- 
plest sensation  even ;  that  there  are  mysteries  without 
number  in  the  domain  of  every  day,  where,  neverthe- 
less, we  move  with  ease,  —  this  is  what  now  strikes  all 
who  reflect.  Respect  for  science  has  not  diminished, 
but  respect  for  nian,  for  the  invisible  realities,  has 
increased. 


•# 


Doubtless  it  would  be  puerile  to  give  way  to  hope  too 
easily.  We  climb  with  pain  the  slopes  we  descended  so 
quickly.  But  the  movement  exists,  it  is  an  actual  fact, 
and  it  is  not  youth  alone  who  is  affected.  Everywhere 
they  who  search  and  think  are  trying  to  lift  the  leaden 
canopy  under  which  humanity  can  no  longer  submit 

to  live. 

The  especial  attention  which  the  most  diverse  minds 
give  to  the  religious  feeling,  so  lately  scorned,  is  not  one 
of  the  least  symptoms  of  this  search  for  new  paths. 
There  are  many  ways  of  looking  at  this  subject,  and 
often  a  great  lack  of  knowledge  of  its  history.    Some 


148 


YOUTH. 


confound  Catholicism  with  Christianity,  and  see  in  it 
the  salvation  of  the  future ;  others  speak  of  a  renais- 
sance of  the  gospel  in  the  sense  of  the  modern  spirit ; 
others  are  enthusiasts   for  esoterism,  theosophy,  the 
comparative  study  of  religions ;  others  still  are  wait- 
ing to  see  absolutely  new  horizons  rise  of  such  an  ex- 
tent that  we  shall  see  at  last  the  synthesis,  so  laboriously 
pursued,  of  all  the  past  and  all  the  present.     "  One 
of  the  marks  of  the  youth  of  to-day  —  I  speak  of  think- 
ing youth  —  is  a  longing  for  the  divine."  ^    We  receive 
this  testimony  with  pleasure.    Incomplete  though  the 
manifestation  of  this  feeling  is,  we  rejoice  at  it.    What 
is  important,  above  all,  is  the  state  of  mind  which  gave 
it  birth.    It  is  very  interesting  to  note  how  that  state  of 
mind  shows  itself  in  the  centres  more  particularly  de- 
voted to  religious  studies.    We  meet  in  them  every  day 
a  large  number  of  young  men  who  Have  cut  loose  from 
extremes.    Where  their  predecessors  were  intrenched 
in  orthodoxy  or  in  rationalism,  and  where  these  archaic 
distinctions  still  suffice  for  the  multitude,  we  see  them 
resolutely  clearing  a  new  road.    They  have  gone  be- 
yond the  narrow  point  of  view  of  unyielding  ortho- 
doxy, and  beyond  even  that  of  negative  criticism,— 
two  exaggerations  equally  powerless  to  appreciate  the 
soul's  affairs.    Their  aim  is  to  lose  nothing  of  tradition 
and  to  sacrifice  no  right  of  the  present,  but  to  apply 
themselves  to  discovering  truth  no  matter  where  they 
find    it,  to  render  it  homage,  and  to  express  it  in 
language  as  simple  and  practical  as  possible.    Party 
spirit,  which  has  been  for  a  long  time  the  soul  of  reli- 

>  E.  Lavisse:  La  gAt/raiion  de  1890. 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


149 


gious  centres,  and  which  continues  to  be  its  evil  genius, 
is  held  by  them  in  horror. 


*  # 


The  whole  literature  of  youth  is  gradually  taking  on 
new  shades.  A  mysticism,  sometimes  healthful,  some- 
times pernicious,  but  which,  under  each  and  every  form, 
is  in  contrast  with  the  realism  of  the  period  before  it, 
shows  itself  in  a  multitude  of  poems  and  essays  on 
various  subjects.  We  read  now  frequently  writings  by 
the  young  which  would  have  appeared  strange  and  even 
impossible  a  few  years  ago,  and  which  foretell  a  new 
literary  flora.  The  leaven  is  spreading  and  continually 
gaining  strength.  Without  knowing  or  planning  it, 
studious  youth  are  stirred  by  similar  aspirations,  and 
often  give  them  identical  expression.  In  a  word,  there 
is  a  new  life  stirring. 


• 
*  * 


More  heartily  than  these  signs  of  a  thought  which 
seeks  new  rules,  and  of  a  morality  preoccupied  with  the 
search  for  a  new  basis,  do  we  welcome  a  new  movement 
which  has  been  accentuating  itself  among  youth  for 
some  years.  This  movement  is  still  very  feeble,  if  we 
look  at  its  practical  results,  though  they  already  begin 
to  show  ;  but  it  is  real. 

I  speak  of  the  social  movement.  My  profound  con- 
viction is  that  this  movement  will  be  the  pivot  of  human 
thought  and  action  in  the  coming  age.  It  is  under  this 
particular  form  that  the  philosophical,  religious,  scien- 
tific, and  international  problems  which  exercise  the 
world  will  find  a  temporary  solution.  They  suggest 
themselves  more  and  more  as  the  separate  constituents 


150 


YOUTH. 


of  the  same  grand  problem  of  humanity,  and  all  reach 
their  culmination  in  the  question  of  the  organization  of 
life.    All  departments  of  the  moral  or  material  govern- 
ments of  the  world  of  to-day  have  had  to  deal  with 
social  questions.    They  have  gained  such  strength  that 
they  force  themselves  on  the  attention  of  great  and 
small  alike.    The  oldest  powers,  whether  temporal  or 
spiritual,— they  who  have  been  accustomed  to  disregard 
the  opinions  of  the  masses,  their  happiness  and  their 
misery,  and  to  lay  their  clutch  on  every  one,  —  are  sud- 
denly brought  down  to  giving  their  attention  to  these 
erstwhile  despised  questions.    We  can  well  say  that  the 
stone  rejected  by  the  builders  has  become  the  headstone 
of  the  comer.    Men  who  are  accustomed  to  seeing 
youth  in  the  advance  guard  of  new  movements  are  as- 
tonished to  see  ours  so  long  unmoved,  so  impassible,  be- 
fore the  social  question.    For  many,  a  few  years  since, 
it  had  no  existence.    Happily  it  has  to-day  taken  a  firm 
hold  of  the  majority,  and  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  is 
in  good  hands.    Youth  takes  these  questions  in  that 
broad'  human  spirit  which  they  demand.    They  have 
lost  greatly  under  other  treatment.   Selfish  interests  and 
unavowed  ambitions  have  too  often  seized  on  social 
questions  to  make  use  of  them,  and  to  sterilize  them  at 
the  same  time.    With  the  multitude,  they  easily  degen- 
erate into  material  questions.    Nothing  will  contribute 
like  the  accession  of  our  studious  youth  to  give  to  this 
complicated  social  problem  its  true  breadth,  and  to  re- 
store to  it  all  the  elements  which  belong  to  it  as  a  whole. 
I  shall  return  to  the  subject  later.    It  will  suflice  now  to 
mention  the  admirable  fruit  which  it  has  already  borne 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


151 


among  youth.  It  has  awakened  its  esprit  de  corps ;  it 
has  encouraged  solidarity,  unity,  and  organization. '  It 
has  brought  teachers  nearer  the  students,  and  students 
nearer  teachers,  making  them  foresee  in  those  reunions 
whose  memory  will  never  fade,  the  happiness  which 
consists  in  discovering  that  they  are  brothers  and  mem- 
bers of  the  same  body.  How  can  generations  live  and 
die  without  experiencing,  in  all  its  powerful  charm,  this 
old  and  holy  bond,  commonplace  though  it  be ! 

I  consider  the  founding  of  our  Association  genSrale 
des  Studiants  and  similar  societies  as  one  of  the  hap- 
piest events  among  our  contemporary  youth.  At  the 
same  time  studious  youth  feels  itself  drawn  toward  the 
people.  The  feeling  is  not  yet  reciprocated ;  but  if  the 
desire  for  fraternization  is  aroused  on  one  side,  that  is 
enough  to  bring  it  about.  Men  of  heart  and  action  point 
out  this  field  as  one  of  those  on  which  advance  must 
be  made.  I  cannot  refrain  from  citing  here  the  words 
of  Monsieur  Jules  Ferry  at  the  banquet  of  the  Associa- 
tion des  etudiants  in  1890:  "You  must  love  still 
another  thing,  —  not  only  that  grand  suffering  of  which 
your  president  has  just  now  spoken  so  eloquently,  but 
that  proletariat  from  which  you,  as  we  all,  have 
kept  too  far  away,  not  in  our  sympathies,  for  our 
sympathies  are  warm ;  not  in  our  labours,  for  we  have 
done  much  for  it,  and  much  that  it  does  not  believe  and 
will  not  allow  itself  to  believe ;  but  you  must  love  it 
through  personal  action,  and  through  individual  and 
daily  association." 

Social  preoccupations  in  youth  are  shown  by  a  ten- 
dency toward  action,  and  by  a  predilection  for  men  of 


152 


YOUTH. 


action,  and  for  writers  who,  like  Monsieur  Melchior  de 
VogUe,  show  us  in  their  writings  a  generous  conception 
of  life  and  new  reasons  for  struggling  and  hoping.  Cer- 
tain intellectual  states,  lately  so  highly  esteemed,  seem 
now  simply  idleness  and  desertion.   Man  is  placed  in  the 
world  for  personal  exertion,  and  he  must  share  its 
work.    We  are  beginning  to  believe  in  effort,  in  moral 
force  and  its  pre-eminence  over  every  other  power. 
Optimists  are  succeeding  pessimists,  and  sociologists  are 
succeeding  egoists.    But  whatever  be  the  reasons  for 
the  present  change,  it  is  evident  that  we  must  rejoice  in 
it.    From  whatever  quarter  confidence  may  have  re- 
turned  to  youth,  it  is  welcome.    I  know  that  youth  is 
severe  in  its  judgment  of  its  predecessors,  even  unjustly 
so.     They  who  to-day  and  not  without  self-sufficiency, 
plume  themselves  on  their  political  positions,  would  be 
greatly  surprised  could  they  hear  themselves  judged  by 
their  immediate  successors.    In  their  eyes  they  would 
seem  like  characters  from  another  epoch,  if  not  another 
order  of  beings.    The  dogma  of  parties,  the  subtlety  of 
the  distinctions  that  divide  them,  many  a  question  to- 
day of  vital  importance,  and  especially  our  incapacity  for 
revising  our  opinions,  —  all  these  would  seem  to  them 
like  the  phenomena  of  a  very  old  civilization.     The 
young  romanticists  of  I830  had  no  more  sarcasms  for 
the  classicists  than  our  young  sociologists  have  for 
politicians. 

The  daily  wear  of  life  will  correct  these  exaggerations. 
It  is  reassuring  to  know  that  young  men  propose  to 
mingle  in  its  affairs,  that  they  take  it  very  seriously, 
that  they  see  clearly  in  it  their  duties,  that  they  set  them- 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


153 


selves  to  find  out  by  study  and  reflection  ways  and 
means  to  accomplish  them,  that  their  young  imagination 
kindles  with  sensibility,  and  that  their  mental  outlook  is 
not  at  all  a  narrow  one,  nor  are  the  aspirations  of  their 
hearts  limited.    We  may  ask  whence  comes  this  sudden 
change  whose  signs  we  have  enumerated.    Ought  we 
to  see  in  it  only  a  natural  reaction  provoked  by  the  ten- 
dencies of  the  preceding  period  ?    This  is  a  factor,  and 
a  strong  one.    But  is  it  not  astonishing  that  such  a  con- 
trast can  be  noted  between  one  generation  and  another  ? 
For  my  part  I  cannot  refrain  from  congratulating  our 
country  on  this  new  spirit.    If  belief  in  exertion  has 
been  reborn,  we  owe  it  to  that  great  energetic  act  in 
which  have  been  concentrated  so  many  good  wishes 
and  persistent  hopes,  and  which  we  may  call  our  up- 
rising.   This  fact  is  in  itself  alone  a  superb  contradic- 
tion to  the  fatal  and  grosser  powers,  at  the  same  time 
that  it  furnishes  an  argument  for  the  modern  spirit. 
There  is  nothing  astonishing  in  that.    To  him  who  is 
not  blind  this  lesson  is  one  of  the  grandest  that  can  be 
beheld.    Youth  alone  is  not  affected.    Do  we  not  see 
by  the  side  of  the  awakening  of  belief  in  mystery,  in 
human  dignity,  and  in  social  justice,  another  movement 
far  outside  our  national  boundaries  ?    The  human  soul 
begins  to  shudder  beneath  the  heavy  chain  of  mate- 
rialism, in  the  domain  of  ideas,  of  brute  force,  and  in 
that  of  facts.    Right  is  in  the  ascendant ;  force  is  cast 
down.     Everywhere  belief  in  purely  material  power 
totters.    What  a  sign  of  the  times  it  is,  that  on  leaving 
a  period  like  our  own,  where  it  sometimes  seems  as  if 
justice  and  love  were  silenced  forever,  our  hearts  catch 


154 


YOUTH. 


themselves  beating  at  their  very  names.  The  ice  is  melt- 
ing  from  Europe ;  our  youth  feels  in  its  veins  the  sap  of 
spring.  At  this  moment,  when  many  belated  souls  are 
preaching  the  old  rigime,  and  are  offering  to  cure  us  of 
all  our  ills  in  exchange  for  our  liberty,  this  is  what  I 
see  most  clearly :  the  star  of  democratic  France,  ob- 
scured for  a  moment  by  brute  force,  and  scoffed  at  in 
turn  by  the  partisans  of  the  old  despotism  or  the  new 
barbarism,  climbing  the  horizon  like  the  harbinger  of 
better  times. 


But  what  influence  can  this  movement  which  we  see 
manifesting  itself  have  on  the  youth  of  the  people? 
It  is  difficult  at  the  moment  to  decide.  One  can  always 
lay  down  the  rule  that  it  is  among  the  people  that  old 
things  last  longest.    Virgil  has  said,  — 

.  .  .  Extrema  per  illos 
Justitia  excedens  terris  vestigia  fecit. 

It  is  among  the  people  that  we  find  good  old  cus- 
toms years  after  they  have  disappeared  elsewhere.  We 
even  meet  antediluvian  fashions,  old  books  which  no 
one  any  longer  reads,  and  old  worn -out  arguments.  We 
must  therefore  wait  for  a  long  time  yet,  until  the  ideas 
whose  awaking  we  have  pointed  out  make  their  slow 
way  among  the  masses.  They  will  reach  them,  as  ne- 
gations  have  reached  them,  by  that  same  power  of  ex- 
ample and  of  radiation  which  we  have  shown  to  be 
inevitable.  They  will  circulate  more  quickly  through 
the  young,  and  from  them  will  work  through  the 
masses,  if  that  harmony  so  desirable  between  educated 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


155 


youth  and  the  youth  of  the  people  can  be  brought 
about.  The  France  of  to-day  needs  to  raise,  each  day 
more  and  with  greater  firmness  and  clairvoyance,  a  high 
democratic  ideal,  and  to  infuse  it  with  public  spirit. 
Without  that  ideal,  despite  its  prerogatives  and  its 
liberties,  a  democracy  falls  rapidly  under  the  regirm 
of  error,  and  passes  through  disorders  into  servitude. 
While  waiting  for  youth  to  recognize  and  practise  in 
all  their  extent  the  duties  of  an  intermediary  between 
the  highest  intelligences  and  the  masses,  we  will  rely  a 
little  on  a  pure  press,  on  good  books,  —  in  a  word,  on 
all  good  influences,  and  especially  on  a  new  ally  of 
immense  import  where  youth  is  concerned,  —  the  school. 
I  ask  to  explain  myself  in  detail,  because  the  subject  is 
so  momentous. 


There  are  institutions  which  recall  the  old  scapegoat 
which  the  Israelites  loaded  with  all  their  sins,  and  which, 
when  he  finally  escaped  from  their  hands,  accursed  and 
racked  with  blows,  plunged  into  the  desert,  hearing  be- 
hind him,  to  spur  him  on  his  way  to  death,  the  outcries 
and  imprecations  of  a  whole  people.  The  lay  school  is 
one  of  these  institutions.  In  some  mouths  its  name 
sounds  almost  like  the  devil's  school.  For  these  persons 
it  is  the  antechamber  of  the  jail.  Its  teachers  doubtless' 
curse,  instead  of  praying,  and  in  their  precious  lessons 
teach  youth  veritable  abominations. 

One  of  the  rules  of  prudence,  in  these  days  of  skilful 
perversion  of  facts,  is  to  inform  itself  scrupulously  as  to 
persons  or  institutions  which  are  bitterly  attacked.  In 
the  interests  of  justice,  I  have  followed  this  rule  for  a 


156 


YOUTH. 


long  time,  and  I  have  proved  that  it  is  the  best  things 
which  are  worst  spoken  of.  My  rule,  then,  necessitates 
a  visit  to  the  primary  school.  Why  so  many  outcries, 
so  many  accusations,  such  persistent  hate  ?  Let  us  in- 
form ourselves  thoroughly  and  with  impartiality. 

My  best  way  to  get  the  information  would  have  been 
to  become  a  pupil.  But  I  have  passed  the  limit  of  age. 
Besides,  I  was  one  formerly  for  many  years.  We  were 
taught  the  catechism,  it  is  true,  but  so  little  and  so 
badly  that  we  would  have  done  better  to  learn  it 
outside.  But  apart  from  lessons  in  the  catechism,  the 
master  was  a  good  man,  and  his  words  were  full  of 
straightforwardness,  of  good  sense,  and  of  tact,  and  I 
shall  never  forget  them.  Certainly  this  may  have 
changed  since  then.  To  satisfy  myself  thoroughly,  I 
set  myself  to  study  the  programmes,  the  methods,  the 
personal  instruction  in  the  different  grades,  in  order  to 
get  an  insight  into  the  instruments,  the  organization, 
the  spirit  of  this  institution  which  was  denounced  to  me 
as  in  the  highest  degree  corrupting.  Not  content  with 
examining  it  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  teachers, 
I  examined  it  from  that  of  the  scholars.  I  entered  into 
the  life  of  some  of  these  young  patients,  my  especial 
friends.  I  felt  their  pulse  and  listened  to  their  heart- 
beats,  that  I  might  trace  the  effects  of  the  instruction 
given  them ;  and  this  is  what  I  think  on  the  subject. 
The  greatest  work  that  has  been  done  in  twenty  years 
is  that  which  has  been  unostentatiously  carried  on  by 
the  public  school.  It  is  the  true  medium  of  national 
education,  the  modest  intermediary,  but  one,  far-reach- 
ing indeed,  between  the  people  and  those  heights  where 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


157 


modern  thought  in  its  loftiest  sense  is  developed.  An 
intermediary,  serious,  prudent,  and  disinterested,  it  ap- 
plies itself  to  condensing  human  affairs  into  some  simple 
principles  as  a  firm  basis  whence  one  can  make  an 
orientation  of  public  spirit  in  practical  life  just  as  one 
has  made  an  intellectual  and  moral  orientation.  But  it 
has  one  great  fault,  I  confess.  It  is  its  wish  to  serve 
every  one,  and  to  remain  within  the  limits  of  universal 
equity  and  human  unity.  This  renders  it  absolutely 
unsuited  to  the  requirements  of  party  spirit.  Not  only 
is  it  of  no  service  to  it,  but  if  anything  can  injure  or 
weaken  that  spirit,  it  is  the  school. 

That  a  school  be  unsectarian,  free  from  connection 
with  this  or  that  religion,  independent,  in  a  word,  from 
the  point  of  view  of  the  confessional,  is  a  great  good. 
You  feel  the  necessity  of  saying  to  children,  even  from 
their  school-benches,  that  there  are  different  ways  of 
believing  and  worshipping,  and  that  there  are  profound 
dissimilarities  between  men  which  ought  to  be  empha- 
sized, in  order  not  to  make  of  man  an  abstraction.  For 
my  part,  I  recognize  another  need :  it  is  to  leave  them  in 
ignorance  of  this  state  of  things  as  long  as  possible, 
and  to  bring  them  up  first  as  brothers.  In  laying  thus 
a  common  human  basis  of  respect,  it  seems  to  me  that 
we  help  on  the  disposition  which  one  must  be  in  to  say. 
Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven.  On  the  contrary, 
in  isolating  them  with  care,  in  order  to  give  different 
kinds  of  religious  instruction,  we  risk  strengthening  in 
them  the  feelings  which  find  utterance  in:  Lordy  I 
thank  thee  that  I  am  not  as  other  men.  I  persist, 
then,  in  considering  freedom  from  religious  control  is 


k 


H 


158 


YOUTH. 


R 


of  advantage  to  the  school,  provided  always,  on  the  other 
hand,  that  it  is  not  connected  with  an  anti-religious  sect. 
This  last  supposition,  bom  of  the  excessive  zeal  of  some 
fanatic  laics  and  urged  besides  from  ill-will,  is  nullified 
by  its  entire  practice  and  spirit.    No,  the  unsectarian 
school  is  not  a  godless  school.    It  has  left  the  region 
of  detail  to  mount  to  higher  planes.    The  things  of  the 
soul  there  taught  belong  to  an  universal  domain,  —  that 
domain  where  we  fraternize  above  all  petty  diflferences. 
In  religion,  as  in  politics  and  in  morality,  individual 
and  social,  the  unsectarian  school  is  before  everything 
human.     1  see  it  inspire,  more  and  more,  certain  prin- 
ciples, moderate,  vigorous,  and  indispensable,  which  are 
the  quintessence  of  practical  wisdom  and  the  basis  of 
society.    We  live  in  an  age  when  we  must  search  fields 
in  common,  that  we  may  gain  strength  and  march  to- 
ward the  future  hand  in  hand.    Whatever  the  religion 
to  which  we  adhere,  and  even  if  we  adhere  to  none  at 
all,  such  as  we  are,  rank  and  file,  we  have  need  to  be- 
come converts  to  humanity.     It  is  the  grand  aspiration 
of  the  noblest  souls  of  this  crumbling  and  inquiet  age. 
Something  of  this  aspiration,  very  modem  and  very 
widely  open  to  all  that  is  just  and  true,  has  entered  into 
the  primary  school.    May  it  increase  and  spread !  Since 
I  have  realized  this,  the  humble  roof  of  the  school,  its 
walls,  its  benches,  its  blackboards,  the  silent  and  patient 
labours  of  its  masters  and  scholars,  assume  in  my  eyes 
an  immense  importance ;  and  when  I  see  the  evils  that 
devour  this  nation,  the  passions  that  divide  it,  the  crises 
it  passes  through,  —  all  the  ensemble,  in  short,  of  what 
one  dreads  when  he   loves  mankind,  —  one  of  my 


PATHS  OF  TO-MORROW. 


159 


f 


I 


hopes  and  my  consolations  is  the  little  common  school. 
We  must  love,  respect,  and  sustain  it.  We  ought  all  to 
attend  it  during  our  early  years,  that  it  may  form  in  the 
heart  of  our  being  a  solid  and  common  base,  which  will 
remain  to  us  as  a  precious  souvenir,  even  after  each  of 
us  shall  have  travelled  different  roads  in  life  and  thought, 
toward  the  most  distant  horizons. 

In  clearing  the  way  for  the  reparative  ideas,  and  the 
new  life  which  should  save  us,  little  by  little,  from  the 
evils  from  which  we  suffer,  we  have  an  ally  deep  in  the 
heart  of  the  people.  The  people  have  a  generous  heart, 
and  they  suffer.  Neither  their  generosity  nor  their  suf- 
fering can  reconcile  them  long  to  the  world  without 
pity,  which  realism  has  begot.  The  more  progress  this 
made,  the  more  hideous  did  it  seem,  the  more  odious 
did  it  become ;  and  already  an  obscure  presentiment  re- 
veals to  the  man  of  the  people  that  in  losing  hope,  dig- 
nity, and  faith  in  his  destiny,  he  loses  his  most  precious 
treasure ;  and  that,  when  he  loses  reverence,  he  Is  work- 
ing for  his  own  destruction.  Trusting  and  fighting  for 
the  right,  let  us  live  for  it,  and  sooner  than  we  perhaps 
dare  to  hope  it  will  win  the  masses. 

I  conclude,  then,  that  notwithstanding  the  black  clouds 
that  fill  our  horizon,  notwithstanding  the  troubles,  the 
errors,  the  faults,  from  whose  consequences  we  are  suf- 
fering, there  is  reason  to  be  confident  and  to  take 
courage.  Something  new  is  bom  in  the  heart  of  our 
youth.  "  An  evolution  is  under  way,  mysterious  still, 
but  close  at  hand,  and  perhaps  of  great  proportions."  ^ 

^  H.  Berenger :  La  jeunesse  intellectttelle  et  le  roman  frati^ais 
contemporaine. 


160 


YOUTH. 


They  who  rouse  in  the  night,  and  anxiously  scan  the 
horizon,  breathe  again.  In  truth,  we  are  waking  from 
a  gloomy  nightmare.  Standing  on  the  brink  of  nothing- 
ness, we  have  measured  its  depth.  We  have  felt  hope 
and  belief  die  within  us ;  but  the  dream  is  over,  and  al- 
ready  where  the  night  is  paling,  grows  on  our  eyes  the 
white  line  of  the  dawn.  It  is  not  yet  a  distinct  line,  — 
a  thin  silvery  fringe,  rather,  on  the  thick  and  heavy  gar- 
ments of  the  night ;  but  at  its  sight  hope  reawakens. 
The  future  has  still  happy  days ;  the  end  of  belief  and 
love  is  not  yet.  Courage  now,  and  strong  hearts! 
Against  the  brutal  law  of  a  vanishing  egoism,  against 
sophistry  in  ideas  and  life,  we  must  oppose  justice, 
truth,  and  simplicity.  But  that  we  may  be  stronger 
and  see  life  better,  —  for  the  future  is  for  clear-sighted 
believers,  ~  let  us  steep  ourselves  in  its  sources  and 
climb  its  heights. 


Book  Third. 


TOWARD   THE   SOURCES 

AND 

THE   HEIGHTS. 


Lucem  in  alto  quserens,  vitam  in  pro- 
fundis. 


Ji 


»ooft   ®f}irir* 


CHAPTER  I. 


IS  THE  WORLD  OLD  ? 


I  have  come  too  late  into  a  world  too  old. 

A.  DE  MUSSET. 

Die  unbegreiflich  hohen  Werke 

Sind  herrlich  wie  am  ersten  Tag. 

Goethe. 

TS  the  world  old  ?  The  Preacher  thought  so.  There 
^  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  said  this  disillusioned 
old  man ;  and  the  impression  of  senile  lassitude  which 
these  words  betray  has  left  an  echo  running  through 
expiring  centuries  and  worn-out  lives.  Everything  is 
old ;  everything  has  been  said  and  resaid,  seen  and  re- 
seen.  There  is  no  more  freshness,  nothing  that  has  not 
been  published  abroad.  The  words  "  wonderful,  unfore- 
seen, admirable,"  or  simply  the  word  ''  new,"  are  terms 
of  a  vocabulary  out  of  use.  The  qualities  which  they 
express  have  ceased  to  exist.  The  sun  is  old,  the  world, 
the  bald  mountains,  the  riven  rocks ;  old  is  human  life 
and  all  that  it  contains ;  old  is  misery,  old  is  love ;  all 
our  works  are  old ;  our  art  and  literature  are  but  old 
rubbish  worked  over.  Society  is  so  old  that  the  new- 
bom  are  born  old.  They  are  worn  out  before  they  have 
lived,  tired  before  they  have  worked;  the  mark  of  . 


164 


YOUTH. 


deaepitude  is  on  their  forehead.  And  this  impression 
of  atrophy  and  decay  our  century  has  but  accentuated 
by  its  excess,  its  feverish  life,  its  rage  to  see  everything, 
to  classify  everything,  and  to  define  everything.  All  its 
roads  are  worn.  Everywhere  we  advance  in  some  one's 
tracks.  The  earth  and  history,  the  material  and  the 
spiritual  world,  all  have  been  gone  over.  If,  to  escape 
this  horrible  impression  of  living  on  warmed-over  dishes, 
we  try  to  take  refuge  in  the  bosom  of  the  past,  the  old 
religions  give  the  same  impression  under  a  form  still 
more  accentuated.  For  them,  indeed,  everything  has 
been  known,  fixed,  and  controlled  in  advance,  since  time 
immemorial.  We  live  for  the  ten  thousandth  time  the 
same  life,  we  must  repeat  the  same  formulas  that  others 
have  repeated  before  us  and  that  others  will  repeat  after 
us,  and  it  will  be  the  same  till  the  end  of  time.  The 
account  of  the  infinite  is  made  up.  There  is  nothing 
more  to  be  discovered.  There  is  no  more  revelation, 
because  God  himself,  God  more  than  anything  else,  is 
old ;  he  has  ceased  creating  for  a  long  time. 


* 


Do  not  believe  a  word  of  this.  These  are  the  argu- 
ments and  the  impressions  of  those  who  confound  the 
world  with  their  own  poor  little  existence. 

"  There  are  times  when  we  grow  old  more  quickly 
than  at  others.  In  the  days  of  scepticism  our  souls 
age  rapidly,  because  they  know  not  where  to  draw  fresh 
strength.  Not  a  spiritual  conversation  is  there,  nor  a 
breath  from  the  higher  regions !  Man  makes  himself 
dust  before  he  is  dead,  and  sees  it  not.    Herein  is  the 


IS  THE  WORLD  OLD.? 


165 


danger  of  our  times,  —  moral  drought.  Let  us  seek, 
then,  new  springs  whence  we  may  drink  while  our 
thirst  is  still  alive."  ^ 

There  are,  truly,  things  which  command  respect  from 
their  age,  and  others  from  being  often  seen;  but  if 
this  is  true  of  a  relative  truth,  it  is  much  more  true, 
and  indeed  absolutely  true,  that  nothing  is  old  under  the 
sun,  not  even  the  sun  itself.  Everything  is  new.  The 
newest  of  all,  perhaps,  are  the  commonplaces  which  have 
always  filled  the  life  of  man,  and  before  which  the 
novelties  of  the  day,  which  wither  and  fade  so  quickly, 
count  as  little  as  the  moment  that  takes  its  flight  into 
eternity.  Everything  old !  said  over  and  over  and  thor- 
oughly known !  One  must  be  ignorant,  indeed,  to  say 
that.  The  truth  is,  that  we  know  almost  nothing,  that 
we  have  only  vestiges  of  knowledge,  and  that  beyond 
them  stretches  that  great  unknown  whence  spring 
every  instant  the  most  astounding  surprises.  For  each 
worn  rut  there  are  endless  regions  where  no  foot  of 
man  has  ever  trod.  In  the  material  universe,  as  in  the 
life  of  the  soul  and  in  human  society,  so  great  is  the 
virgin  soil  that  what  we  know  is  as  nothing  in 
comparison. 

And  yet  how  do  we  know  this.?  What  relation 
does  the  portion  of  the  world  which  man  has  stirred 
with  the  shovel  and  the  plough  bear  to  the  immensity 
of  space  and  of  worlds  ?  Exactly  the  same  as  our  knowl- 
edge and  our  experience  bear  to  the  reality  of  things. 
The  spaces  we  have  traversed  are  like  a  child's  step 
on  the  vault  of  heaven.    Our  vices,  even  those  most 

1  Edgar  Quinet :  V  Esprit  nouveau. 


166 


YOUTft 


frightful,  cannot  soil  creation.  What  is  the  little  foul 
air  with  which  we  surround  our  abnormal  existence,  in 
comparison  with  the  blasts  which  blow  over  snowy 
summits  and  sweep  across  oceans  ? 

We  have  repeated  too  often  the  saying  of  the  Preacher. 
Youth  has  assimilated  it.  The  first  condition  of  a  re- 
naissance of  true  life  is  to  throw  overboard  this  idle 
talk  of  a  hlasi  and  disillusioned  octogenarian.  Happy 
they  who  understand  this,  for  it  is  the  beginning  of 
salvation.  Unhappily  there  are  those  who  have  lost 
the  ability  to  understand  it.  There  are  persons  for  whom 
everything  is  absolutely  old.  A  society  in  such  a  state 
is  ready  for  collapse,  and  men  in  such  a  state  are  ready 
for  nothingness.  These  things  are  premonitions  of 
death,  symptoms  of  a  catastrophe  close  at  hand.  Let 
us  leave  this  way  of  speaking  to  those  who  have  reached 
the  end  of  their  world,  and  take  boldly  for  ourselves  the 
motto  of  those  who  are  beginning  it. 

The  first  good  and  the  first  duty  of  a  young  man  is 
to  be  young.  To  real  youth  everything  is  young.  The 
capacity  to  feel  and  discover  the  newness  and  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  world  keeps  fresh  its  soul  and  life.  It  is 
curious  about  everything ;  everything  impresses  it,  and 
over  everything,  corporeal  as  well  as  spiritual,  floats  for 
them  that  aureole  which  opens  to  them  through  finite 
things  a  vision  of  the  infinite.  Life  is  a  revelation,  —  a 
revelation  on  a  grand  scale  to  humanity,  and  a  special 
revelation  to  each  individual.  We  lay  bare  the  world 
through  our  own  conscience  and  that  of  humanity. 
In  vain  has  man  loved,  hated,  prayed,  investigated, 
suffered,  and   died  for   innumerable   centuries.     For 


\ 


IS  THE  -WORLD  OLD.? 


167 


those  who  are  passing  through  it  all,  who  are  living  for 
their  own  sakes  and  not  by  proxy,  love,  hate,  prayer, 
research,  suffering,  and  death  are  as  new  as  at  their 
birth.  Nature  takes  care  that  these  things  do  not  grow 
old.  All  the  stains,  the  crimes,  the  impostures,  the 
falsehoods  of  mankind  cannot  prevent  there  always  be- 
ing those  who  discover  for  themselves  love,  the  reli- 
gion of  the  heart,  the  pleasures  of  learning  and  research, 
just  as  if  no  one  had  ever  experienced  these  things  be- 
fore. Nothing  is  truer  than  this.  Creation  is  won- 
derfully rich.  To  find  it  poor,  one  must  be  sterilized 
oneself.  An  abnormal  and  artificial  life  produces  this 
result.  In  vain  do  men  declare,  write,  publish,  and  sing 
or  bewail  in  every  key  that  the  world  is  old,  worn  out, 
and  commonplace ;  the  birds  sing  a  denial,  the  roaring 
ocean  shouts  it  aloud,  the  sun  and  world  proclaim  it 
louder  still,  and  all  agree  that  youth  and  growth  are  the 
eternal  foundations  of  all  things. 


16S 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER  II. 

LIFE. 

l^oto  toe  mu0t  tabe  it. 

WHAT  is  life  ? 
Poets  have  called  it  a  dream,  —  beautiful  for 
some,  evil  for  others,  but  without  other  consistence. 
It  has  been  called  a  burden,  also,  and  a  strife.  Material- 
istic science  has  tried  to  explain  life  as  a  series  of  assimi- 
lations and  disorganizations ;  for  it  life  is  a  phenomenon 
of  organic  chemistry.  Philosophers  seek  an  answer  in 
metaphysics,  and  theologians  in  religion.  Cur  simus 
conditi  (Melancthon).  In  short,  no  one  has  explained 
it,  and  no  one  ever  will  explain  it.  The  Bible  says,  in 
language  of  incomparable  beauty :  In  the  beginning  God 
created  the  heaven  and  the  earth ;  but  it  does  not  give 
his  reasons  nor  his  methods.  Nevertheless  we  live.  I 
do  not  imagine  that  even  the  most  curious  await,  as  a 
condition  of  living,  the  secret  of  life.  The  wisest  thing 
is  to  consider  this  question  simply  from  a  human  point 
of  view,  which  is  this :  Life  is  a  fact.  This  fact  ante- 
dates our  reason.  We  are  alive  before  we  are  conscious 
of  it,  before  we  have  proof  of  it.  When  we  reach  the 
point  of  recognizing  our  existence,  we  have  existed  for 
a  long  time,  and  there  is  no  way  out  of  it.  Man,  in- 
deed, can  as  little  destroy  himself  as  he  can  create  him- 
self.   Non-existence,  as  well  as  existence,  is  beyond  his 


LIFE. 


169 


L.  ■!»  ^^iAp 


power.  But  once  we  recognize  that  we  are  alive,  we 
must  consider  this  fact,  that  we  may  act  accordingly. 
Though  we  cannot  explain  it,  there  are  a  thousand  ways 
of  appreciating  or  depreciating  existence,  of  using  it  or 
abusing  it. 

Human  life  appears  to  us  the  flower  of  the  life  of  the 
globe ;  and  the  life  of  the  globe,  at  every  stage  of  its 
evolution,  presents  itself  as  the  highest  result  of  all  the 
hidden  labours  of  the  active  forces  of  Nature.  Life  is 
the  result  of  an  immeasurable  number  of  preceding 
efforts.  For  our  instruction  geologic  strata  unveil  their 
mysteries  to  our  eyes,  and  show  us,  through  successive 
forms,  a  constant  advance  toward  perfection.  The  ar- 
chives of  human  history  depict  the  like  efforts  on  a 
higher  plane,  and  under  aspects  more  impressive,  because 
they  appeal  more  to  us.  Our  life  is  then  a  result ;  but 
it  is  impossible  for  thought  to  grasp  its  endless  chain, 
reaching  back  into  the  night  of  time,  without  feeling 
obliged  to  prolong  the  chain  into  the  future.  In  truth,  if 
life  is  a  result,  it  is  a  promise  also.  It  is  the  most  elo-  , 
quent  form  of  aspiration  and  design.  For  as  we  live 
through  a  power  we  do  not  control,  so  we  bear  within 
us  the  results  of  struggles  in  which  we  have  not  parti- 
cipated, and  we  virtually  contain  the  future.  Engrossed 
in  its  advance,  which  astonishes  us  by  its  rapidity  or  its 
slowness  according  to  the  moment,  we  are  as  it  were 
enwrapped,  despite  ourselves,  in  that  first  cause  which 
has  originated  all  things,  makes  them  what  they  are, 
and  leads  them  through  every  stage  of  transformation 
to  the  end  indicated  in  their  very  essence.  At  the  same 
time  we  feel  that  we  can  draw  away  from  this  first 


170 


YOUTH. 


cause  or  draw  closer  to  it.  We  enjoy  a  kind  of  free- 
will,  limited  by  our  very  nature,  which  constitutes  the 
basis  of  our  liberty  and  our  responsibility. 

In  a  word,  our  life  is  the  resume  of  long  labours  and 
the  prophecy  of  a  whole  future.  We  can  join  in  these 
labours,  and  can  collaborate  with  the  future,  or  we 
can  antagonize  them  and  it.  If  we  rise  to  a  religious 
conception,  we  can  state  this  certitude  in  this  way: 
Our  life  is  the  grand  combined  work  of  God  and 
humanity,  and  their  great  hope.  Man  is  the  expecta- 
tion of  God.  In  thus  speaking  we  affirm  the  value  of 
life  as  against  those  who  despise  or  depreciate  it.  We 
affirm  it  not  only  against  the  disciples  of  nothingness, 
but  even  against  certain  religious  ascetics,  who  confound 
in  the  term  **  worldly  vanities  "  the  artificial  life  which 
is  the  result  of  our  errors  and  our  faults  with  life  itself. 
With  their  gloomy  views  as  to  our  wretched  existence, 
they  actually  have  the  air  of  creditors  of  the  Almighty, 
declaring  the  present  world  in  bankruptcy.  At  the  very 
least,  according  to  them,  the  earth  is  only  a  badly 
planned  colony,  an  enterprise  which  has  failed,  which  is 
only  supported  at  the  expense  of  the  mother  country, 
and  which  is  no  credit  to  her. 

I  am  going  to  dwell  further  on  this  way  of  taking 
life,  for  I  wish  to  make  it  clear  that  it  is  not  the  result 
of  fantasy,  but  entirely  in  the  nature  of  things. 

La  Fontaine  has  said,  — 

On  a  souveni  hesoin  d'tm  plus  petit  que  sot. 

To  appreciate  life  man  has  need  of  some  one  smaller 
than  himself,  and  I  affirm  that  above  all  does  civilized 


LIFE. 


171 


man,  the  man  of  letters,  or  the  young  student  accus- 
tomed to  a  life  of  thought  and  to  investigate  the  real 
reasons  of  things,  need  beings  simpler  than  himself,  in 
order  to  thoroughly  understand  existence.  In  propor- 
tion as  he  submits  his  life  to  analysis  and  to  rational 
examination,  is  he  tempted  to  confound  it  with  what  he 
has  learned,  and  to  find  in  it  only  that  which  he  has 
seen  or  thinks  he  has  seen.  To  enter  thoroughly  into 
the  facts  of  life,  its  power,  its  stubbornness,  the  in- 
vincible animation  in  it,  it  must  be  observed  among 
simple  people,  who  hold  it  fast  with  all  the  energy  of 
unconsciousness. 

When  one  lays  down  at  the  outset  of  his  life  a 
syllogism,  and  deduces  his  existence  and  its  purpose 
from  certain  arguments,  he  has  built  on  a  very  frail 
foundation.  You  have  often  seen  little  children  play- 
ing at  the  foot  of  large  rocks  and  propping  them  up 
with  wisps  of  straw  or  bits  of  rotten  wood.  Life  rests 
on  our  arguments,  as  the  rocks  on  these  fragile  sup- 
ports. If  it  had  only  these  for  support,  it  would  long 
since  have  gone  down  in  nothingness  and  despair.  The 
reasons  which  man  gives  to  himself  for  life  are  always 
insufficient.  It  is  important  to  declare  this ;  for  it  is  not 
a  weakness,  but  a  strength.  Life  ought  to  be  taken  as 
are  the  rocks,  the  mountains,  as  are  the  stars  of  heaven ; 
that  is,  as  are  all  realities  against  which  —  Heaven  be 
praised !  —  we  are  powerless,  and  which  exist  of  them- 
selves alone.  It  is  taken  thus  by  those  simpler  beings 
to  whom  I  have  alluded.  I  mean  animals  and  children, 
and  that  healthful  and  robust  class  of  the  people  in 
whom  lies  the  reserve  force  of  life,  as  the  reserve  force 


MKT 


172 


YOUTH. 


of  rivers  lies  m  the  glaciers.  We  are  in  the  habit  of 
saying  that  these  beings  are  under  the  impression  of 
the  moment,  that  the  present  governs  them.  We  can 
say  more  truly  still,  that  at  the  moment  of  strong  im- 
pressions there  is  for  them  neither  past,  present,  nor  fu- 
ture.  They  hold  life  sub  specie  ceterni,  I  have  in  mind 
especially  children  and  persons  such  as  I  have  just  now 
described,  and  who,  I  admit,  are  rare.  They  are  truly 
alive,  because  their  impressions  are  wondrously  strong, 
and  they  show  it.  Everything  is  real  and  stable  to 
them.  Recall  the  memories  of  your  childhood,  —  the 
paternal  roof,  your  father's  and  your  mother's  face,  the 
smallest  tree,  the  least  stone,  and  above  all,  in  the  world 
of  morality,  the  positive  and  clear-cut  distinction  be- 
tween good  and  evil  which  characterizes  a  child,  and 
often  puts  to  shame  grown  people.  Later  on  the  idea 
of  time  and  of  relationship  intermingles  with  a  crowd  of 
memories  which  deaden  these  impressions,  but  all  that 
is  seen,  heard,  or  touched  in  infancy  is  clearly  defined. 
Existence,  with  its  fixity,  its  necessity,  its  sculptural 
reality,  appears  to  the  child  and  to  the  simple-minded 
man  as  a  vision  of  eternity.    This  is  why  their  tears  are 

•  so  touching,  so  real,  so  despairing,  and  their  laughter  so 
.  joyous.  Childhood  and  the  people  have  not  discovered 
.  that  melancholy  and  unwholesome  phrase,  — life  is  a 
.  dream.  There  is  only  one  word  to  designate  their  feel- 
ing as  to  it,  but  the  word  is  perfect.    They  believe  that 

•  it  exists.  Are  we  not  here  in  agreement  with  that 
most  living  of  men,  with  him  who  said,  / aw  the  life? 
Has  He  not  said,  Consider  the  birds  and  the  flowers  ? 
Has  He  not  said,  Be  like  little  children  ?    And  this  is, 


LIFE. 


173 


in  truth,  our  answer  to  the  question.  How  must  we  take 
life  ?  To  take  life  as  a  fact,  a  primordial  fact ;  to  con- 
sider it  as  a  real  thing,  important  in  all  its  parts ;  to  take 
it  au  sirieux;  to  take  it  as  does  a  happy-hearted,  health- 
ful, thoughtless  child,  as  do  the  people  who  have  not 
undergone  our  intellectual  dislocations,  —  this  is  what 
must  be  done  if  we  would  still  feel  its  powerful,  never- 
failing  tide  —  if,  in  a  word,  we  would  be  young.  This 
is  its  foundation  stone. 


174 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER  111. 


ir 


i 


THE  IDEAL. 

THE  instinctive  love  of  life  may    go    astray    and 
degenerate  into  that  excess  which  in  every  one 
turns  a  quality  into  a  defect.    When  we  say  that  we 
must  love  life,  that  we  must  hold  to  it  with  all  our 
hearts,  that  we  must  consider  it  as  our  chief  good,  we  do 
not  mean  to  speak  of  that  cowardly  and  egoistic  love 
which  clings  to  personal  existence  and  its  pleasures.    It  is 
life  in  general,  in  all  its  breadth  and  with  all  that  it  con- 
tains,  which  we  mean.     Life  may  be  loved  as  the  brute 
loves  it,— the  miserable  animal  which  values  only  the 
ability  to  eat,  drink,  sleep,  and  enjoy  itself.    It  may  be 
loved  as  the  coward  loves  it,  —  he  who  dreads  suffer- 
ing above  everything,  and  whose  acts  are  inspired  by 
fear  alone.    This  is  a  wretched  way  to  love  life.    This 
is  not  knowing  it ;  it  is  being  interested  in  its  surface 
simply,  and  leaving  its  depths  unexplored.     Though 
there  are,  unhappily,  many  men  who  look  at  it  in  this 
way,  the  great  majority  have  never  done  so.    There  are 
always  those  who  love  life  for  the  good  to  which  it 
may  be  consecrated,  —  in  a  word,  for  that  which  may  be 
made  of  it.    It  is  in  this  sense  that  the  Greeks,  stig- 
matizing this  inferior  love  of  it,  attached  a  shade  of 


THE  IDEAL. 


175 


•f 


disgrace  to  the  adjective  <^tA.o)3to9.    It  is  in  this  sense 
that  Schiller  has  said,  — 

Der  Guter  grosstes  ist  nicht  dieses  Lehen^ 
Der  Uebel  grosstes  dber  ist  die  Scbuld.^ 

These  words  preach  no  contempt  of  life,  but  the 
contrary.  If  the  spirit  of  devotion  and  sacrifice  is 
possible,  —  and  Heaven  knows  that  humanity  has  fur- 
nished and  does  furnish  every  day  proofs  incontesta- 
ble, —  if  man  can  give  himself  to  a  cause,  it  is  not 
because  he  despises  life.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  because 
he  is  animated  by  a  higher  conception  and  another  love 
than  that  which  we  repel.  The  baser  love  makes  us 
lose  life,  because  it  rivets  us  to  that  which  is  only  its 
husk ;  the  higher  love  preserves  life  for  us,  though  it 
may  even  urge  us  to  lose  it. 

In  truth,  this  is  very  simple,  though  it  is,  after  all,  the 
greatest  thing  in  the  world  and  the  most  difficult  to 
practise.  The  life  which  the  egoist  and  the  coward  love 
is  not  all  of  life ;  it  is  but  a  small  portion.  They  sub- 
stitute individual  existence  for  existence  in  general,  and 
in  this  individual  existence  they  chose  for  themselves 
the  narrowest  and  the  frailest  portion..  Why  should  we 
be  surprised  if  the  end  of  such  a  love  is  nothingness 
and  disgust  ?  But  in  loving  that  grand  life  of  human- 
ity of  which  ours  is  a  part,  and,  beyond  the  life  of 
humanity,  that  life  of  which  in  its  turn  humanity  is  but 
a  revelation,  —  in  loving  goodness,  truth,  and  justice 
we  go  beyond  our  own  individual  existence,  and  become 

1  "  Our  highest  good  is  not  this  life,  but  error  is  our  greatest 
evih" 


176 


YOUTH. 


heirs  of  a  life  more  noble  and  more  worthy  of  posses- 
sion. We  cross  the  threshold  of  things  transitory  to 
set  our  feet  on  the  everlasting.  We  may  truly  say  that 
they  who  live  most  fully  are  they  who  best  know  sac- 
rifice, renunciation,  and  even  contempt  for  life.  The 
greatest  truth  of  history  is  that  humanity  lives  by  the 
suffering,  the  sacrifice,  and  death  of  its  worthiest  off- 
spring. How  true  is  the  saying  that  they  who  live 
most  in  history  are  the  dead !  Life  is  not  the  bread  we 
eat,  the  air  we  breathe,  the  blood  which  flows  in  our 
veins.  All  this  is  but  the  outer  shell,  —  the  fragile  skiff 
which  bears  us  to  the  realms  of  beauty,  truth,  justice, 
and  strength.  They  who  have  reached  these  realms 
may  well  say  Nunc  dimittis.  The  same  Preacher  who 
found  the  world  so  old,  considered  that  a  living  dog  is 
better  than  a  dead  lion.  In  no  book  in  the  world  can 
be  found  a  more  wonderfully  apt  motto  for  realism. 
Believe  exactly  the  opposite,  young  friend,  you  who  are 
just  setting  your  feet  on  the  ladder  of  life.  A  dead 
lion  is  better  in  itself  alone  than  all  the  dogs  living ! 
Fill  your  soul  with  this  truth.  You  can  then  forge  for 
yourself  an  ideal. 


* 


The  ideal  is  not  a  world  of  the  imagination  far  off 
in  inaccessible  clouds,  and  so  different  from  the  real 
world  that  it  is  hopeless  ever  to  attain  it.  The  ideal  is 
the  living  representation  of  the  realities  whose  germs 
we  bear.  In  the  germs  of  plants  and  of  animals  we 
can  recognize  with  the  microscope  certain  delicate  and 
hardly  apparent  forms,  which  mark  the  starting-point 
of  future  organisms.   There  is  thus  shown  in  man,  such 


THE  IDEAL. 


177 


as  he  is,  that  which  he  ought  to  become  if  he  obey  his 
destiny  and  that  volition  which  is  the  basis  of  life.  To 
be  alive  in  every  part  of  our  being,  to  realize  the  possi- 
bilities that  are  in  us,  to  do  all  that  we  can,  to  be- 
come all  that  we  are  capable  of  becoming,  —  this  is 
the  aim  of  life.  This  is  our  share ;  the  rest  is  not  in 
our  hands.    Fac  tua,  sua  Deus  faciei. 

The  ideal  of  a  human  being  should  be  modestly  lim- 
ited to  human  nature.  There  is,  we  may  be  sure,  a 
grandeur  in  this  humility.  If  the  seed  cast  in  earth 
were  conscious,  it  would  dream,  under  the  dark  furrows, 
of  a  beautiful  golden  field  where  thousands  of  heads 
turned  toward  the  sun ;  if  the  tgg,  inert  as  a  stone, 
could  imagine  the  latent  forces  within  it,  its  ideal  would 
be  a  free  bird  beating  with  its  pinions  the  vast  fields  of 
azure.  Let  man  then  in  his  youth  examine  himself, 
know  himself,  come  face  to  face  with  himself,  and 
humanity  will  appear  to  him  in  all  its  sublime  beauty. 
The  road  which  he  should  follow  will  be  indicated  by  his 
very  nature,  by  his  joys  and  sorrows,  by  all  that  he  is 
and  by  all  that  he  experiences. 


* 

*  « 


In  an  epoch  like  ours,  which  has  suffered  such  objec- 
tive and  subjective  dispersion  and  division,  we  must 
aspire  to  harmony  and  unity.  The  lack  of  equilibrium 
is  the  great  individual  and  social  evil.  To  seek  equi- 
librium within  and  without  us  should,  then,  be  the 
watchword  in  a  general  orientation. 

Man  is  first  of  all  an  individual.  To  say  that  the  in- 
dividual is  nothing  is  as  false  as  to  say  that  it  is  every- 


12 


178 


YOUTH. 


thing.  The  strength  with  which  each  one  of  us  is  bound 
to  his  personal  life  shows  us  that  individuality  is  not  an 
illusion.  At  every  instant  of  our  life  everything  that  we 
experience,  pain  or  pleasure,  tells  us  that  we  are  alive, 
that  we  are  an  existence  and  a  distinct  existence.  Noth- 
ing, therefore,  is  more  justifiable  than  an  anxiety  for 
individual  development.  Each  one  of  us  in  his  youth 
seems  to  himself  incomplete  ;  his  traits  and  his  stature 
are  still  to  be  attained.  It  is  in  this  that  man's  educa- 
tion consists. 

Life,  whether  our  outer  or  our  inner  life,  is,  in  brief, 
made  up  of  two  parts,  whose  equilibrium  is  of  the 
highest  importance.  These  are  receptivity  and  activity. 
Receptivity  concerns  the  intelligence,  the  feelings,  the 
influences  of  climate  and  place,  and  physical  or  moral 
nurture.  It  is  the  many -voiced  instrument  by  which 
the  world  —  all  which  is  not  ourselves  —  acts  on  us. 
Activity  comprises  movement,  effort,  work,  every  dis- 
play of  energy,  every  manifestation  of  our  will.  It  is  the 
response  to  the  action  without,  —  our  personal  reaction, 
our  contribution  to  the  vast  domain  of  life. 


*  * 


What  we  have  so  far  been  able  to  prove,  a  little 
everywhere,  is  that  we  are  leaving  an  epoch  where, 
notwithstanding  a  colossal  development  of  energy, 
man  has  developed  in  his  receptivity,  rather  than  in  his 
activity.  Our  education  has  culminated  in  instruction, 
and  this  in  mental  furniture  rather  than  in  culture  and 
in  development  of  originality.  In  practice,  our  search 
for  happiness  has  aimed  at  the  satisfaction  which  comes 


THE  IDEAL. 


179 


from  impressions  or  recreations,  whether  of  the  mind 
or  the  body,  rather  than  that  which  comes  from  action. 

This  peculiarity  must  be  widespread,  because  we 
have  constant  evidence  of  it.  I  read  in  a  book  of  the 
Swedish  poet  Ibsen  entitled  Ligue  de  la  Jeunesse : 
"The  chief  fault  of  our  education  is  that  we  have 
planted  our  feet  on  what  we  know,  instead  of  on  that 
which  is.  We  see  to  what  this  tends.  We  see,  for 
instance,  hundreds  of  capable  men  who  lack  equilibrium, 
whose  sentiments  and  dispositions  are  entirely  at  vari- 
ance with  their  acts." 

We  have  relegated  action  and  the  will  to  the  second 
place.  Man  is  to  be  an  intelligence,  a  brain,  rather  than 
a  character.  This  shows  itself  in  the  psychological 
sciences,  where  all  that  relates  to  intelligence  has  been 
much  more  deeply  examined  than  that  which  relates  to 
the  will.  We  are  here  face  to  face  with  a  serious  de- 
ficiency. Of  what  use  are  mind  and  intelligence  when 
that  regulator  we  call  the  will  is  absent  ?  The  will  is 
the  helmsman  of  the  ship ;  when  it  wavers  and  is  at  a 
loss,  fear  shipwreck.  Let  youth  pay  special  attention 
that  the  cultivation  of  personal  energy,  of  activity,  of 
physical  and  moral  force,  be  an  aim  ardently  pursuecf. 

There  are  as  many  forms  of  activity  as  forms  of  re- 
ceptivity. He  who  is  introspective  will  have  noticed 
that  the  world  and  men  produce  on  him  impressions  of 
a  physical,  intellectual,  moral,  aesthetic,  or  religious 
nature,  according  as  they  act  on  this  or  that  form  of 
his  impressibility.  Though  these  diiferent  forms  ought 
to  have  a  common  origin,  it  is  impossible  to  confound 
them,  or  to  substitute  one  for  another  without  grave 


180 


YOUTH. 


error.  One  is  not  a  real  man  unless  one  accords  their 
value  to  each  of  the  elements  of  one's  whole  being. 
All  our  religious  and  our  moral  sense  have  been  ne- 
glected and  despised.  We  begin  to  see  that  they  are  a 
part  of  our  normal  receptivity  as  much  as  our  aesthetic 
sense,  for  example.  To  neglect  them  is  to  mutilate  it; 
to  deny  them  is  to  deny  actual  facts.  The  activity  will 
feel  their  effects,  receiving  thus  a  new  stimulus  and  new 
motives  for  action.  The  religious  or  the  moral  man 
obeys  impulses  of  which  they  who  neglect  to  cultivate  in 
themselves  the  sense  of  the  good  and  the  sense  of  the 
divine  are  ignorant.  I  wish  especially  in  what  fol- 
lows to  call  attention  to  this,  for  it  is  likely  to  be  for- 
gotten, and  to  insist  on  it,  for  it  is  of  great  importance. 
I  shall  not  tarry  to  speak  of  instruction,  of  scientific 
research,  of  study  properly  so  called,  of  a  curriculum, 
—  in  short,  of  all  the  ensemble  of  intellectual  or  aesthetic 
culture.  These  things  have  been  spoken  of  by  specialists. 
1  will  rather  devote  myself  to  the  education  of  the  will, 
and  to  subjects  connected  with  its  discipline  and  exercise, 
as  well  as  their  counterparts,  idleness  and  pleasure,  where 
I  have  some  ideas  of  my  own  to  express.  And  I  shall 
reserve  the  place  of  honour  for  religious  sentiment. 


Man  is  not  an  individual  alone.  The  more  he  recog- 
nizes the  innumerable  ties  that  bind  him  to  his  ances- , 
tors  and  his  contemporaries,  the  more  fully  does  he 
realize  that  he  is  part  of  a  whole.  That  which  he  has 
and  that  which  he  is,  he  owes  in  great  measure  to  others. 
He  is  like  a  cord  in  a  net,  distinct,  but  inseparable  from 


THE  IDEAL. 


181 


the  wholi.  Man  is  an  integral  part  of  society.  Soli- 
darity environs  and  pervades  him  to  such  an  extent  that 
he  sees  nothing  else  when  his  eyes  are  opened  to  this 
great  fact.  Then  follows  initiation  into  social  life,  and 
he  rises  by  degrees  to  family  ties,  friendship,  love,  and 
patriotism.    At  this  stage  only  is  he  a  man. 

We  will  devote  the  rest  of  this  book  to  describing 
certain  characteristics  of  this  ideal,  in  order  to  show  the 
richness  of  the  life  which  aims  at  it. 


182 


YOUTH. 


ACTION  :  DISCIPLINE. 


183 


CHAPTER  IV. 


ACTION. 


Esto  vir. 


1.  Dtfi^cipUne* 


T  HAVE  so  many  reasons  for  wishing  to  preach  action 
^  to  youth  that  I  despair  of  enumerating  them.  This 
is  the  first :  Words  are  discredited.  Far  be  it  from  me 
to  scorn  them ;  but  the  truth  must  be  faced.  Words, 
which  are  the  chief  bond  among  men,  the  great  arm 
and  the  great  tool  of  the  mind,  have  lost  their  force, 
because  they  have  been  the  instruments  of  falsehood. 
Every  utterance  is  distrusted.  Who  can  prove  to  us 
that  it  is  sincere,  or,  if  it  is  sincere,  that  it  will  continue 
so }  Facile  jugglers  of  words  and  thoughts  have  so  per- 
verted their  meaning  that  we  often  talk  to  no  purpose : 
words  have  lost  their  sense.  We  have  heard  so  many 
systems  and  doctrines  exposed  that  we  are  hlase.  We 
are  no  longer  interested.  How,  then,  can  we  reveal 
what  is  in  us,  diffuse  our  ideas,  and  exercise  that  apostle- 
ship  of  truth  and  of  the  ideal  which  is  the  noblest  need 
of  those  who  have  something  at  heart  ?  I  answer ;  By 
talking  less  and  acting  more.  The  Arabs  despised  a 
man  who  talked  much,  deducing  from  it  that  he  thought 
little  and  was  weak-minded.    The  man  of  weight  with 


Ihem  was  he  who  was  sparing  of  words.  With  us  talk 
is  in  high  favour.  To  have  said  or  written  a  clever 
thing  is  an  honour.  The  chevaliers  of  the  pen  and 
tongue  are  on  a  par  with  those  of  the  sword  and  tool, 
and  are  often  ranked  higher.  We  are  too  intelligent  to 
take  them  au  sMeux.  We  see  their  blade  of  speech 
cutting  a  glittering  circle  in  the  air,  but  it  does  no  exe- 
cution. How  many  good  sayings  have  been  simply 
wasted !  We  must,  then,  find  some  other  mode  of  ex- 
pression. Charlatans  have  spoiled  the  trade  for  honest 
folk.  We  must  put  our  soul  less  and  less  into  books  and 
addresses ;  it  runs  the  risk  of  being  buried  there.  Let 
us  lay  our  hands  to  the  clay,  let  us  take  the  spade,  the 
hammer,  the  goad,  the  whip,  and  in  place  of  tracing 
characters  on  paper,  let  us  grave  them  on  living  hearts. 
Instead  of  crying,  "  Forward !  Fire !  "  let  us  be  ourselves 
the  first  in  the  attack.  The  chief  who  rushes  to  the  as- 
sault has  no  need  to  consider  his  style  or  to  quote 
Csesar ;  a  cry,  a  gesture  sufllces,  and  the  contagion  of 
his  example  brings  his  regiment  on  his  heels.  Imitate 
him.  When  you  know  something  beautiful,  good,  just, 
or  right,  do  not  say  it ;  do  it,  and  this,  not  for  a  day 
only,  but  with  persistent  patience.  And  when  you  see 
something  iniquitous  and  bad,  do  not  lose  time  in  raising 
your  hands  to  heaven  and  in  arousing  the  indignation 
of  others,  using  this,  perhaps,  afterward  as  a  pretext  to 
fold  your  arms.  No,  do  you  yourself  seize  the  bull  by 
the  horns,  and  act  personally.  Help  will  come  of  itself. 
But  before  performing  any  such  action  we  must  be 
convinced  of  the  necessity  of  discipline.  Any  force,  of 
whatever  kind,  can  be  compared  to  fire  and  water. 


184 


YOUTH. 


H 


Whether  it  is  good  or  bad,  we  cannot  tell.  All  depends 
on  discipline,  it  can  be  a  devastating  scourge  or  a 
healthful  power  according  as  it  is  cowardly  or  domi- 
nant. It  can  spend  itself  in  total  waste  or  in  fruitful 
results,  according  as  it  is  unruly  and  blundering,  or 
docile  and  kept  in  hand. 

Very  different  ideas  are  held  about  discipline;  but 
they  group  themselves  under  two  principal  heads. 

On  the  one  hand,  by  discipline  is  meant  the  sum 
total  of  the  means  by  which  life  is  subdued  and  put,  as 
a  passive  instrument,  under  the  control  of  the  will  of 
another. 

On  the  other  hand,  by  discipline  is  meant  the  series 
of  means  by  which  we  make  life  strong,  mistress  of 
itself,  and  by  which  we  establish  among  its  various 
forms  of  action  an  equilibrium  which  instead  of  bring- 
ing them  into  conflict  harmonizes  them.  This  second 
kind  of  discipline  makes  man  his  own  master  and 
governor,  under  the  direction  of  that  which  is  the  aim 
of  his  whole  life,  and  to  which  little  by  little  he  conse- 
crates his  entire  being. 

We  do  not  propose  to  speak  here  of  the  first  kind  of 
discipline.  It  is  not  worthy  of  being  a  part  of  human 
education ;  it  is  inhuman.  It  uses  the  same  methods  as 
are  used  in  training  horses  or  in  teaching  dogs  to  re- 
trieve. It  is  excellent  for  animals,  but  detestable  for 
men.  It  is  not  discipline ;  it  is  breaking  to  harness. 
Such  a  system  weakens  the  will,  and  makes  man  a 
thing.  This  kind  of  discipline,  so  far  from  realizing 
the  aims  of  life,  suppresses  them.  We  must  suffer  and 
endure  everything  rather  than  accept  it. 


ACTION:  DISCIPLINE. 


185 


But  we  must  have  a  care  not  to  reject  discipline  in 
general,  as  often  happens  under  pretence  of  liberty  and 
the  dignity  of  man.  He  who  has  no  check,  no  law,  no 
reverence,  who  does  not  know  obedience,  and  who  does 
not  recognize  the  authority  of  the  laws  which  underlie 
everything,  and  which  conscience  should  reflect,  de- 
scends lower  than  the  brute.  When  certain  disorders 
break  out,  of  which  our  times  have  furnished  examples, 
we  are  astonished  at  our  longing  that  men  who  live 
thus  should  receive  summary  treatment.  There  are 
days  and  hours  when  the  wickedness  and  shame  of 
man  seem  so  frightful  that  we  are  tempted  to  appeal 
to  violence  to  bring  them  to  order,  or  at  least  to  hinder 
them  from  publishing  their  ignominy.  But  that  would 
be  to  fall  from  Charybdis  into  Scylla. 


Discipline,  in  the  good  sense  of  the  word,  has  always 
been  necessary  and  salutary.  Neither  in  the  State  nor 
in  the  army  nor  in  the  school  nor  in  the  family,  has 
anything  permanent  been  established  without  it.  Dis- 
cipline is  to  action  what  logic  is  to  intelligence  and 
what  economy  is  to  finance.  It  is  necessary  to  have 
undergone  it,  and  to  be  undergoing  it  unceasingly,  if 
we  would  not  fall  into  confusion,  incoherence,  and 
sterility.  Unhappily,  all  the  world  do  not  seem  to  have 
thoroughly  grasped  this.  There  are  many  strong 
minds  among  youth  who  think  they  can  dispense  with 
details,  and  can  reach  the  mountain  top  without  the 
fatigue  of  climbing  step  by  step.  The  lack  of  real  dis- 
cipline is  one  of  the  scourges  of  the  times.    We  have, 


186 


YOUTH. 


on  the  one  hand,  license  and  lack  of  restraint ;  on  the 
other,  the  deadly  rigidity  of  arbitrary  systems.  Few 
men  know  that  voluntary  obedience  which  is  the  mother 
of  liberty.    In  it,  nevertheless,  is  the  secret  of  moral 

force. 

1  wish  I  could  make  every  young  man  perceive  the 
horrible  state  of  depravity  and  misery  into  which  those 
soft-hearted  beings  throw  themselves  who  dread  all 
manly  control,  who  know  not  how  to  refuse  nor  resist 
anything,  and  who  yield  to  the  first  wish,  desire,  or 
whim,  or  to  the  impulses  and  caprices  of  events  and  wills 
other  than  their  own.  I  wish  to  make  them  perceive  it, 
in  order  to  awake  the  desire  for  a  different  life  in  the 
hearts  of  those  who  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  abyss  into 
which  it  is  possible  to  fall.  Perhaps  it  may  make  them 
desire  salutary  severity. 

For  though  this  severity  seems  formidable,  its  results 
are  so  beautiful.  Action  is  such  a  good  that  we  must 
prefer  the  lash  of  the  whip  which  awakes  it,  to  the 
caress  which  puts  it  to  sleep.  In  spite  of  all,  we  appre- 
ciate its  grandeur.  Even  weak,  debased  minds  have  a 
secret  admiration  for  it.  He  who  is  in  control  of  him- 
self is  like  a  lighthouse  in  the  moral  world. 

Nothing  so  instantly  recommends  itself  and  is  so  im- 
posing as  strength  of  soul.  When  it  passes,  we  feel  that 
royalty  has  passed  by,  and  something  in  the  depths  of 
our  nature  makes  us  wish  to  possess  this  royalty.  The 
spectacle  of  debased  wills  fills  us  with  disgust  for 
others  and  ourselves.  There  are  days  and  hours  when 
the  appreciation  of  universal  worthlessness  crushes  us. 
The  spectacle  of  virility,  on  the  contrary,  is  consoling. 


ACTION:  DISCIPLINE. 


187 


It  is  enough  for  its  pure  ray  to  have  once  shone 'into 
our  conscience,  for  us  never  to  forget  it.  "  Many  a 
day  and  under  many  a  circumstance  have  I  seen  a 
man  at  work,  — at  some  labour  of  courage,  of  pity, 
of  truth,  — and  I  have  thought  him  so  beautiful  that  I 
would  have  given  everything  to  resemble  him."  How 
1  wish  that  many  of  the  youth  of  our  day  thought 
thus !  Just  as  we  deligbt  to  see  a  child  sprightly,  enter- 
prising, contemptuous  of  pain,  so  we  love  to  meet  a 
young  man  whose  ideal  is  to  be  strong  and  to  fear 
nothing  but  a  mean  action.  Such  a  one  would  surely 
wish  discipline  as  a  means  of  realizing  his  noble  as- 
pirations, and  he  would  never  despise  its  petty  details. 
For  it  is  with  them  that  we  must  begin.  Be  sure  of 
this,— that  action,  like  all  man's  faculties,  is  sub- 
ordinate to  the  laws  of  development.  It  may  be  culti- 
vated like  the  intelligence,  and,  like  it,  rise  from  simple 
things  to  the  most  difficult.  The  progressive  force  of 
action  has  a  great  analogy  in  the  school  of  war.  The 
soldier  is  a  man  of  discipline  who  knows  how  to  endure 
and  to  fight,  and  is  made  ready  by  a  series  of  exer- 
cises. Edgar  Quinet  has  said  that  war  is  made  up  of 
two  parts, — the  human  and  the  divine.  The  human 
part  is  the  sum  total  of  the  material  mechanism ;  the 
divine  is  the  spirit  that  actuates  the  soldiers,  and  the 
cause  for  which  they  fight.  In  the  noble  battle  for  which 
man  prepares  himself  it  is  the  same.  The  mechanism 
here  is  the  ensemble  of  methods  by  which  we  make 
supple  and  strong  his  weapon  the  will.  From  these 
methods  we  can  deduce  a  single  rule  :  In  the  details  of 
life  make  it  your  aim  to  be  active  rather  than  passive. 


^ 


188 


YOUTH. 


ACTION  :  DISCIPLINE. 


189 


Eating,  drinking,  sleeping,  amusing  oneself,  working,  — 
everything  that  one  undertakes,  can  be  done  passively. 
We  can  be  in  bed  because  we  ought  to  be  there  and 
because  we  need  rest ;  we  can  also  be  there  because  we 
are  simply  lazy.  Every  one  knows  this.  It  is  the  same 
with  all  the  acts  of  life,  and  nothing  is  more  easily 
noticed. 

Work,  which  seems  to  be  action  par  excellence,  can 
have  a  passive  character  which  takes  away  nearly  all  its 
moral  value.  To  work  because  one  is  forced  by  hun- 
ger or  thirst  is  to  be  passive.  It  is  our  hunger,  our  thirst, 
which  is  the  spring  of  action,  and  we  only  follow  its 
suggestion. 

Life  demands  the  conquering  in  detail  of  the  inev- 
itable and  of  outside  influences ;  of  the  desires,  the  appe- 
tites, the  passions,  and  the  force  of  inertia  which  is  in 
every  one  of  us. 

How  many  human  beings  have  lived  and  died  with- 
out ever  suspecting  that  the  great  business  of  human 
life  is  to  live  life,  and  not  to  allow  themselves  to  be 
carried  along  and  dominated  by  it !  These  are  the  things 
that  must  be  taught  young  soldiers  who  wish  to  enter 
this  school  of  war,  —  they  must  seize  on  life,  they  must 
keep  a  watch  on  it,  and  must  strive  to  gain  ground 
little  by  little  on  this  passiveness  which  surprises  and 
binds  us,  in  spite  of  ourselves,  when  the  guard  within 
is  sleeping.  A  good  way  to  bring  about  that  vigilant 
action  which  makes  our  life  come  little  by  little  under 
the  power  of  our  reflective  will  is  to  strengthen  it,  gen- 
erally, by  every  kind  of  virile  exercise.  Nothing  is  so 
effective  in  hardening  it  as  a  little  trouble,  privation,  and 


even  suffering.  As  a  rule,  strong  characters  have  lived 
in  the  very  midst  of  the  struggles  and  the  difficulties  of 
life.  Events  have  furnished  them  a  severe  and  salutary 
school.  Let  us  follow  the  hint  life  gives  us,  and  be  hard 
on  ourselves.  Let  us  seek  fatigue,  exertion,  all  that 
stretches  the  muscles  and  solidifies  the  bones,  all  that 
makes  more  red  the  blood,  all  that  exercises  patience 
and  endurance  of  whatever  ^nature  it  may  be.  How 
one  comes,  under  this  regime,  little  by  little  and  through 
daily  practice,  to  lifting  weights  which  inert  hands  can- 
not  even  move !  Bodily  vigour  is  one  of  the  conditions 
of  moral  vigour.  Montaigne  has  said :  "  To  strengthen 
the  soul  we  must  strengthen  the  muscles."  To  him 
who  aspires  to  self-government  the  sensation  of  physi- 
cal weakness  should  be  insupportable.  He  should  feel 
the  necessity  of  cherishing  everything  that  is  in  him, 
body  and  mind  alike,  of  developing  it  by  constant  care, 
and  of  burnishing  it  every  day,  as  one  does  a  precious 
weapon,  that  rust  and  dust  may  not  tarnish  it.  When 
by  reason  of  these  masculine  exercises  man  has  become 
master  of  himself,  as  a  good  rider  is  of  his  steed,  the 
human  conditions  of  the  struggle  will  have  been  ful- 
filled. He  will  then  devote  his  attention  to  the  di- 
vine,—  to  knowing  the  spirit  which  should  animate 
him  and  the  banner  under  which  he  carries  arms  in  the 
fight.  The  important  thing  is  that  he  shall  serve  but  one 
master.  That  master  is  the  will,  which  underlies  every- 
thing.  We  assist  it  when  we  are  actuated  by  the  prin- 
ciples which  it  points  out  to  us  in  the  life  of  humanity. 
To  enlarge  life  and  to  better  it ;  to  make  it  just,  strong, 
pure,  healthful,  joyous ;  to  love  it  and  prove  our  love 


190 


YOUTH. 


by  serving  it,  —  that  is  his  aim.  But  when  one  loves  life 
in  its  divine  essence  and  its  integrity,  must  one  not  hate 
many  things?  This  we  will  say:  the  result  of  disci- 
pline should  be  to  form,  to  make  flexible,  and  to  reclaim 
our  whole  nature  in  such  fashion  that  with  all  its  ener- 
gies it  places  itself,  like  a  docile  and  valiant  sword,  at 
the  service  of  the  life  it  should  love,  to  oppose  and  at- 
tack all  the  enemies  it  should  hate,  without  truce  and 
without  mercy.  Hatred  of  evil  is  the  indispensable 
complement  of  the  love  of  life.  He  who  knows  not 
how  to  hate,  knows  not  how  to  love.  He  who  said, 
"  1  love,"  and  said  it  truly,  said  with  the  same  breath,  "  I 
hate."  These  beautiful  and  mighty  passions  are  the 
backbone  of  struggles.  All  the  great  friends  of  man 
have  known  them,  because  they  are  as  enduring  as  the 
rocks  on  which  one  builds  one's  house  or  breaks  one's 
head. 

To  love  and  hate  with  all  that  one  is  and  all  that  one 
has,  even  to  the  point  of  sacrifice  and  death,  is  what 
constitutes  the  highest  degree  of  virile  discipline.  Will- 
ing obedience,  from  humble  beginnings  and  faithfulness 
in  little  things,  has  now  become  the  highest  liberty  and 
the  loftiest  and  purest  pleasure. 

A  fig  for  cowardly  and  passive  enjoyment  which, 
after  all,  makes  us  effeminate,  and  leaves  us  unarmed 
and  exposed  to  even  the  smallest  attack!  What  a 
wretched  happiness  is  this !  True  happiness  is  in  action, 
in  struggling.  Oh,  to  live,  to  strive,  to  suffer,  for 
what  one  loves  and  worships,  —  for  justice,  liberty,  coun- 
try ;  for  those  who  are  outraged  and  oppressed !  Oh, 
to  be  a  manly  heart,  a  rampart,  as  the  Greeks  had  it, 


'}  i: 


ir 


action:  work. 


191 


a  breastwork  that  cannot  be  taken ;  to  be  able  to  say 
No  as  firmly  as  Yes,  to  have  a  word  that  can  be  de- 
pended on  as  surely  as  the  sun-rising,  to  fall  into  step 
with  the  immortal  phalanx  who  march  to  humanity's 
field  of  honour  in  a  blaze  of  glory!  Young  friend, 
you  who  read  this  page,  do  you  feel  your  blood  on  fire 
as  you  picture  to  yourself  such  a  life  ?  It  can  be  yours ; 
but  to  reach  it  you  must  have  the  courage  and  patience 
to  be  trained  as  by  a  master  of  fence. 

2.  Work. 

Work  is  the  peaceful  and  continuous  form  of 
action.  Some  one  has  said :  "  Work  is  life,  idle- 
ness is  death."  If  this  be  true,  and  1  do  not  doubt 
it,  death  is  preying  upon  us.  "  What ! "  some  will 
say,  *'  do  you  think  we  do  not  work  enough  ?  Others 
think  we  work  too  much."  Let  us  explain.  No  cen- 
tury has  worked  as  this  one ;  but  who  has  done  the 
work  ?  J^  few  only.  For  one  inventor,  worn  out  by 
researches  and  vigils,  how  many  are  there  who  take 
their  ease  and  profit  by  his  labour !  In  business  the 
work  everywhere  falls  on  certain  shoulders.  Others 
reap  advantage  without  a  thought  for  those  who  bear 
the  burden  of  the  day.  The  American  Bellamy  has 
happily  compared  life  to  a  stage-coach.  A  part  of  man- 
kind is  harnessed  to  it,  and  drags  the  rest,  who  dis- 
pute for  places  inside.  Work  is  misunderstood  and, 
indeed,  despised  by  too  many  persons.  It  is  every- 
where considered  as  a  drudgery  to  which  one  submits 
to  gain  one's  bread.    He  who  has  bread,  has  no  need  to 


192 


YOUTH. 


work ;  he  who  has  not,  works  from  necessity.    Both 
of  them  act  from  unworthy  motives.    I  recognize  two 
classes  of  idlers,  — those  who  are  lazy,  and  those  who 
grumble  at  their  tasks.    We  must,  then,  rehabilitate 
work.     How  shall  it  be  done  ?    By  all  of  us  working 
without  exception.    Granted  that  work  is  a  law  of  life, 
we  cannot  admit  that  any  one,  under  any  pretext,  shall 
be  exempt.    Whoever  does  not  work  is  doomed,  by  the 
very  spirit  of  this  supreme  law,  to  perish.     He  perishes 
from  internal  atrophy,  destroyed  by  his  imprisoned 
energy  which  turns  to  poison.    All  that  does  not  rouse, 
does  not  set  him  to  work,  rusts  and  taints  him.    You 
have  no  work,  young  man  ?   That  is  enough  !    I  would 
rather  hear  that  you  had  the  cholera,  because  that  kills 
and  does  not  contaminate  the  body.    The  disease  of 
laziness  which  is  preying  on  you  destroys  the  whole 
man.    You  are  not  only  infected  yourself,  you  become 
a  centre  of  infection.     In  a  well-organized  society,  the 
man  stricken  with  your  disease  should  be  condemned 
to  death,  —  a  death  of  public  shame,  a  death  by  starva- 
tion.   There  is  no  place,  in  a  world  under  the  rule  of 
labour  and  solidarity,  for  him  who  has  bread  in  abun- 
dance and  lives  idly  on  the  work  of  others,  or  for  him 
who  has  no  bread  but  is  lazy  and  begs  or  steals  it,  no 
matter  how.    He  falls  from  the  tree  like  the  dead  leaf. 
Let  us  who  love  work  and   understand  how  good 
and  salutary  it  is,  who  realize  that  it  is  a  great  deliverer 
and  a  great  peacemaker,  never  conceal  it.     It  is  one  of 
the  elegances  of  this  age  of  labour  to  do  so.    In  our 
cities  the  shop-windows  are  dazzling  to  see,  the  factories 
are  out  of  sight.    We  have  results,  but  not  the  toil  that 


ACTION:  WORK. 


193 


produced  them.  How  pernicious  this  for  youth  and  for 
every  one !  Not  to  know  the  pains  things  have  cost  — 
not  to  see  the  pale  little  hand  which  made  this  fine  lace, 
and  the  grimy  fist  which  forged  this  gearing  and  these 
machines  —  is  to  be  led  into  error  and  to  be  liable  to  in- 
justice. We  shall  come  to  believe  that  things  almost 
make  themselves.  Let  us  show  our  work ;  it  is  a  social 
necessity,  a  homage  to  truth.  Let  us  do  more ;  let  us 
honour  it  in  our  own  person,  that  youth  may  honour  it 
the  more.  We  can  never  exalt  it  enough.  Do  not 
hide  your  hands  when  they  show  signs  of  toil ;  it  would 
be  cowardly.  See  how  the  evil  is  spreading !  Do  not 
add  to  its  shamelessness  your  false  shame.  Why  brush 
away  so  carefully  this  dust  of  labour  ?  It  honours  you. 
Never  is  the  soldier  finer  than  when  he  is  black  with 
smoke.  What  is  the  full  dress  of  parade  to  the  wild 
disorder  of  battle  ?  Old  Diogenes,  whom  no  one  under- 
stands and  whom  the  epithet  *'  cynic  "  describes  so  badly, 
was  a  great  practical  philosopher  and  instructor.  He 
taught  the  young  students  who  came  to  him  for  advice, 
among  other  things,  to  oppose  a  stupid  public  prejudice 
by  going  about  with  burdens,  tools,  and  other  imple- 
ments of  labour.  Why  is  he  not  among  us  still  to 
teach^these  rude  precepts  to  certain  young  lordlings,  who 
are  little  troubled  at  being  seen  in  bad  company,  but 
would  blush  to  be  caught  at  some  unpretending  and 
honourable  work.? 

Most  absurd  habits  and  the  falsest  ideas  are  every 
day  taught  our  youth  of  both  sexes  by  this  way  of 
concealing  work.  You  excuse  yourself,  madame,  when 
1  surprise  you  with  your  hands  in  the  dough,  or  bu^y 

13 


f 


I 


194 


YOUTH. 


in  the  care  of  your  children.    Your  embarrassment  is 
complimentary  neither  to  yourself  nor  to  me.    Shall  we 
be  of  those  who  despise  labour  ?    What  can  be  better 
than  to  cook,  or  to  keep  house,  or  to  care  for  children  ? 
A  mother  is  never  so  touching  as  when  at  her  post. 
What  a  beautiful  example  she  offers  youth !    We  must 
not  exaggerate,  indeed ;  we  must  not  deliberately  blacken 
our  hands  and  face.     Virtue  itself  is  estimable  only 
through  its  tact  and  its  discretion.    But  we  understand 
one  another,  do  we  not  ?    We  hear  it  often  said,  now- 
adays, that  young  people  do  not  wish  to  work ;  and 
those  who  say  it  are  the  direct  authors  of  the  inertia 
they  complain  of.    In  making  themselves  their  children's 
servants  and  sparing  them  all  exertion,  have  they  not 
themselves  taught  them  idleness  ? 

Now  that  we  are  speaking  of  manual  labour,  let  us 
devote  special  attention  to  this  much  neglected  form  of 
activity.  1  recognize  in  its  rehabilitation  one  of  those 
curative  agents  which  is  to  redeem  our  epoch.  First 
and  foremost,  that  equilibrium,  lost  by  the  exaggeration 
of  intellectual  speculations  and  by  the  exasperation  of 
our  receptive  faculties,  will  be  restored  by  an  impetus 
in  the  direction  of  muscular  activity.  Muscular  activity 
is  a  tonic;  it  relieves  the  mental  strain,  and  brings 
about  a  certain  equipoise  in  overworked  bodies.  From 
this  point  of  view  manual  labour  is  a  grand  curative 
agent.  It  enriches  the  blood,  increases  the  energy, 
keeps  up  good  humour  when  there  is  any,  and  brings 
it  back  if  it  has  taken  flight.  We  live  more  gayly  and 
more  broadly  when  the  body  has  its  normal  activity, 
and  our  ideas,  far  from  being    lost,  are    increased. 


ACTION:  WORK. 


195 


Sedentary  study  enervates  and  impairs  our  impressions 
and  our  ideas,  diminishes  the  clearness  of  our  concep- 
tions, and  leads  to  exaggerations  and  eccentricities.  We 
cannot  with  impunity  disregard  the  basis  of  life.  We 
hold  the  pen  better,  and  we  are  better  fitted  for  work 
after  we  have  planed,  sawed,  filed,  and  hammered,  be- 
cause nothing  makes  the  brain  so  active  and  is  such  an 
originator  of  ideas  as  moderate  physical  exercise.  Be- 
sides, in  bringing  us  nearer  real  life,  nearer  the  things 
which  one  sees  and  touches,  and  which  are  essentially 
practical,  it  furnishes  in  the  depths  of  our  being  a  valu- 
able ballast  which  prevents  our  ideas  from  straying  and 
being  lost  in  space.  How  many  politicians  would  have 
escaped  the  danger  of  hollow  principles  and  the  pas- 
sion for  useless  legislation,  had  they  learned  through 
work  the  practical  needs  of  the  people? 

But  among  all  varieties  of  manual  labour  there  is 
none  to  be  compared,  in  its  wonderful  influence,  with 
work  in  the  fields.  It  is  one  of  the  least  within  the 
reach  of  students,  except  in  vacations.  Happy  then  is 
he  who  can  fly  to  the  fields,  who  owns  a  bit  of  well- 
known  land,  or  has  some  relative  or  friend  from  whom 
he  can  ask  initiation  into  country  secrets.  There  is  a 
spirit  of  the  fields  which  lives  in  the  furrows  and  in 
the  harvests,  in  the  hedges  and  in  the  meadows,  —  a 
spirit  beneficent,  full  of  repose,  of  sweet  teachings, 
and  of  virile  enthusiasm.  Virgil  understood  it.  Anti- 
quity is  impregnated  with  it.  But  it  demands  of  each 
one  his  share  of  effort  before  it  will  reveal  itself. 
Nature  speaks  to  those  who  walk  abroad,  no  doubt,  for 
she  is  kind  to  all ;  but  there  are  things  she  says  to  those 


196 


YOUTH. 


only  who  cultivate  and  study  her, — those,  in  a  word,  who 
love  her.     I  consider  it  the  greatest  misfortune  for  any 
grade  of  society  to  consummate  a  divorce  from  the  soil, 
and  to  consider  it  as,  unhappily,  it  is  considered  in  our 
great  cities  in  the  midst  of  an.  artificial  life,  —  so  much 
mud.    How  true  is  the  old  myth  of  the  giant  Antseus 
regaining  his  strength  every  time  he  touched  his  mother 
earth,  and  only  conquered  when  his  adversary  tore  him 
violently  from  it.    We  must  go  back  to  the  soil  to  gain 
renewed  strength  from  its  vigorous  heart.    Let  tired 
youth,  worn  out  with  study,  anaemic  and  enervated  by 
the  great  city,  take  the  key  of  the  fields.    Speak  to  the 
peasant;  better  yet,  ask  him  for  work.     Drive  his 
plough  ;  handle  his  pick,  his  scythe.    In  a  few  days  you 
will  be  astonished  at  the  number  of  new  things  you 
have  discovered.    You  will  have  learned  the  difficulty 
of  raising  the  grain  so  many  people  eat  unthankf  ully ,  and 
you  will  not  be  able  thereafter  to  touch  it  without  emo- 
tion, remembering  that  man  has  contributed  his  labour, 
and  God  his  sun.     He  who  ploughs  the  earth  and  sows 
the  seed  is  the  true  symbol  of  humanity  which  sows 
and  trusts.    By  the  side  of  the  labourer,  should  life  have 
seemed  to  you  unreal  and  full  of  vanity,  you  will  say 
under  your  breath  with  the  poet,  — ' 

On  sent  a  quel  point  il  doit  croire 
A  lafuite  tUile  des  joursA 

You  will  realize  dimly  the  sacredness  of  labour  and 

^  "  We  feel  how  deeply  we  must  believe 
In  the  useful  flight  of  the  days." 


ACTION  :  WORK. 

the  serious  depths  of  life,  and  you  will  see  the  last  rays 
of  an  October  sun,  — 

Elargissant  jusqu^aux  etoiles 
Le  geste  auguste  du  semeur  !  ^ 

Do  this,  young  man !  Believe  me,  I  have  tried  it  be- 
fore advising  it.  I  have  cut  more  than  one  field  of  oats 
and  wheat,  cradled  for  long  hours  under  the  August  sky 
to  the  slow  cadence  of  the  blade  as  it  swung  to  and  fro, 
laying  low  at  every  stroke  the  heavy  yellow  heads.  I 
have  heard  the  quail  whistle  in  the  distant  fields  be- 
yond the  golden  waves  of  wheat  and  the  woods  that 
looked  blue  above  the  vines.  I  have  thought  of  the 
clamours  of  mankind,  of  the  oven-like  cities,  of  the 
problems  which  perplex  the  age,  and  my  insight  has 
grown  clearer.  Yes,  1  am  positive  that  one  of  the  great 
curatives  of  our  evils,  our  maladies  social,  moral,  and 
intellectual,  would  be  a  return  to  the  soil,  a  rehabilitation 
of  the  work  of  the  fields.  I  cannot  refrain  from  citing 
here  a  page  from  my  friend  T.  Fallot's  Id^es  d'un  ruraly 
and  I  commend  them  to  young  men  in  general,  but 
especially  to  those  whom  an  erroneous  conception  of 
life  has  induced  to  abandon  the  cultivation  of  their 
lands,  and  thus  set  a  baleful  example :  — 

"  The  educated  classes  should  set  the  fashion  of  a 
return  to  the  country  and  to  the  soil.  They  have  done 
the  mischief ;  they  should  repair  it. 

"  Is  it  not  they  who  taught  the  peasant  the  fetichism 
of  the  city,  and  all  that  goes  with  it,- —  cheap  goods 

1  "  Exalting  even  to  the  stars 

The  august  gesture  of  the  sower." 


198 


YOUTH. 


ACTION:  WORK. 


199 


til 

i 


and  cheap  ideas  ?  Is  it  not  they  who  have  spread  the  cult 
of  money  got  without  labour,  the  thirst  for  corrupting 
pleasures  which  they  taste  there,  and  all  the  rest  ? 

"  After  having  taken  away  from  the  peasant  respect 
for  the  soil  and  the  labour  which  tills  it,  it  will  not  be 
easy  to  restore  this ;  nevertheless,  cost  what  it  may,  he 
must  be  made  to  understand  that  there  is  no  existence 
preferable  to  his.  Otherwise  the  depletion  of  the  coun- 
try districts  will  continue. 

"Arguments  take  slight  hold  of  the  agriculturist; 
example  alone  makes  him  reflect.  The  day  he  sees 
families  in  easy  circumstances  and  educated  men  living 
and  working  beside  him,  Jacques  Bonhomme  will  come 
to  understand  that  he  has  been  thoroughly  deceived  in 
the  assurance  that  there  are  more  gold  pieces  to  be  got 
in  the  city  than  there  are  stones  in  his  vineyard,  and, 
roused  by  this  discovery,  he  will  set  joyfully  to  work 
to  open  his  soil  to  God's  free  sun  and  make  it  produce 
its  fruits. 

"Let  me  not  be  misunderstood :  it  is  neither  an  act  of 
sacrifice  nor  a  crusade  that  I  am  preaching  to  educated 
men ;  it  is  a  perfectly  reasonable  undertaking,  from 
which  they  will  be  the  first  to  benefit. 

"Though  the  worthy  corporation  of  pharmacists 
should  draw  up  prescription  after  prescription,  and  com- 
pound pill  after  pill,  they  would  never  find  a  restorative 
like  that  which  tilling  the  soil  offers  man." 

The  ancients  were  wiser  than  we  in  apprenticing  their 
children  to  some  handicraft,  whatever  might  be  their 
social  condition.  This  kind  of  practical  education  is 
the  indispensable  complement  of  all  virile  culture. 


Manual  labour,  in  my  opinion,  has  another  advantage 
besides  those  I  have  mentioned.  It  is  a  means  of  bring- 
ing the  different  classes  of  society  together.  So  long 
as  work  is  despised  by  the  educated  and  well-to-do  of  a 
nation,  it  is  a  source  of  misunderstanding  and  ill-feeling. 
Notwithstanding  all  the  protestations  and  all  the  testi- 
monials in  honour  of  those  we  call  workers,  they  be- 
lieve that  their  work  is,  after  all,  a  slavery,  to  which  no 
one  would  willingly  submit.  It  is  but  a  step  from  this 
to  hatred  of  manual  labour.  The  mental  work  which 
is  usually  done  under  outward  circumstances  of  nicety 
and  comfort,  the  people  readily  depreciate,  or  see  in  it 
only  an  agreeable  pastime  or  idleness  in  disguise.  It  is 
not  easy  for  him  who  bears  the  heat  of  the  sun,  the 
inclemencies'  of  the  weather,  or  the  foul  air  of  the 
mines,  to  believe  that  one  can  suffer,  struggle,  be  weary, 
carry  heavy  burdens,  and  climb  rugged  paths,  while 
sitting  quietly  in  a  chair  in  the  shade. 

The  misunderstandings  which  result  from  this  state 
*  of  things  are  grave  obstacles  to  social  progress.  To 
lessen  them  the  educated  classes  must  familiarize  them- 
selves with  the  work  of  the  other  classes,  and  take  the 
first  steps  toward  the  rehabilitation  of  the  humbler  forms 
of  labour. 

Work,  at  the  moment,  has  become  simply  a  means 
of  procuring  food,  and  even  pleasure,  luxury,  or  repu- 
tation. We  have  made  it  play  a  subordinate  part. 
Beautiful  in  its  freedom  like  most  human  forces,  it  has 
acquired  in  slavery  a  succession  of  deformities.  Like 
love  and  religion  it  is  unrecognizable,  because  it  has 
degenerated.    We  know  work  hardly  otherwise  than  as 


It 


200 


YOUTH. 


a  commodity.  Even  mental  work  is  undervalued  and 
for  sale.  Who  remembers  now  that  labour  is  one  of 
the  purest  sources  of  happiness,  and  that  it  is  never  so 
holy  as  when  it  is  disinterested.  Of  all  the  means  man 
has  to  bring  himself  in  touch  with  the  bases  of  things, 
—  truth,  justice,  all  that  is  venerable  and  permanent,  — 
there  is  none  so  good  as  labour.  To  establish  between 
ourselves  and  that  great  mystery,  life,  the  contact  which 
shall  communicate  the  vivifying  electric  shock,  it  seems 
as  if  we  must  lay  our  hands  to  some  useful  tool.  It  is 
in  toiling,  in  losing  himself  in  his  loved  work,  that  man 
feels  himself  akin  to  the  Eternal  Worker.  Work  is  the 
great  liberator,  the  peacemaker,  the  consoler  par  excel- 
lence ;  but  to  know  it  fully  we  must  remember  that  it 
sometimes  calls  itself  suflfering. 

A  word  is  worth  no  more  to  jugglers  with  words 
than  a  sou  is  to  a  speculator.  Both  appropriate  the  re- 
sult of  others*  labours  by  the  wholesale.  But  he  who 
gains  his  money  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow  knows  its 
true  value ;  he  sees  what  it  costs.  It  is  the  same  with 
words.  What  has  not  their  making  cost,  —  these  words 
which  one  man  parades  like  so  many  tinsel  adornments, 
and  which  are  as  great  an  embarrassment  to  another  as 
his  uniform  is  to  a  performing  dog  ?  Words  are  long 
histories  condensed ;  they  are  the  whole  flora  of  life 
and  thought  grouped  in  a  single  bouquet.  Take  this 
word  labor,  which  means  both  work  and  suffering.  It 
is  a  whole  system  of  philosophy  and  of  morality.    It 


ACTION:  SUFFERING. 


201 


unites  in  one  and  the  same  thought  the  creative  activity 
of  man,  and  that  law  of  toil  and  suffering  to  which 
we  are  all  subject.  Does  not  the  word  indicate  that 
suffering  is  wedded  to  toil  in  the  long,  slow  evolution  of 
mankind,  and  that  this  evolution  is  like  childbirth,  a 
dolorous  travail.  It  is  with  this  that  a  young  man 
should  be  thoroughly  impressed,  that  he  may  form  a 
correct  idea  of  suffering,  and  that  he  may  not  only 
seek  that  form  of  activity  which  gives  happiness  and 
pleasure  and  which  brightens  one's  whole  being  with 
the  delight  of  creating,  but  may  also  accept  laborious 
effort  and  transform  into  activity,  in  the  free  accepta- 
tion of  the  word,  even  passive  suffering. 

Man  rebels  at  suffering  and  pain.  His  nature  de- 
mands that' he  should.  Pain  preserves  him  by  warning 
him.  When  he  goes  astray,  it  springs  up  to  tell  him  of 
it.  It  is,  then,  natural  that  we  should  seek  that  which 
enlarges  life  and  adds  to  its  enjoyments,  and  that  we 
should  shun  that  which  narrows  it  and  makes  it  suffer. 
Even  for  this  are  we  not  indebted  to  pain } 

Lbomme  est  un  apprenti,  la  douleur  est  son  maitre; 
Et  nul  ne  se  connait  avant  d'avoir  souffert,^ 

Paul  does  not  alone  fill  for  us  the  negative  office  of 
one  who  cries  "  Beware  "  in  dangerous  places  ;  it  makes 
us  mindful  of  ourselves,  it  reveals  us  to  ourselves. 
How  many  things  a  man  sees  clearly  only  through 
tears }    And  what  tears  are  more  sincere,  more  touch- 

^  Man  is  an  apprentice,  pain  is  his  master ; 
And  no  one  knows  himself  till  he  has  suffered. 

A.   DE  MUSSET. 


II' 


Il 


i 


^1 


Hi 


I'i 


202 


YOUTH. 


ing,  than  those  of  youth  ?    When  its  fresh,  generous, 
susceptible  heart  comes  into  contact  with  rough  and 
often  pitiless  life,  how  it  suffers !    What  an  experience 
it  goes  through !    The  youth  of  this  harsh  and  positive 
age  has  known  it.    We  say  to  it :  Love  it,  love  this 
suffering  which  comes  from  the  contact  of  life  with 
your  ideal.     Take  it  into  your  inmost  soul,  and  con- 
sider its  slightest  whisper.     Wherever  in  the  world 
you  feel  yourself  bruised,  wounded  in  some  deep  and 
true  sentiment,  opposed  in  some  legitimate  aspiration, 
have  the  courage  of  your  suffering.    Let  it  be  the  cry 
of  alarm  which  arouses  you  to  resistance,  to  combat,  to 
a  search  for  something  better.    You  will  then  know 
pain  as  a  deliverer.     It  forges  arms  from  its  chains. 
Through  this  holy  grief  of  youth,  oppressed  and  suf- 
fering from  the  injustice  which  the  stronger  inflict  upon 
the  weaker,  learn  to  love  justice  better.    Do  not  act 
like  the  new  boys  at  certain  schools  who,  when  they  are 
harassed  by  their  elders,  resolve  to  harass,  in  their  turn, 
their  juniors.    Let  sorrow  teach  you  pity,  and  draw  you 
nearer  those  who  suffer  and  are  distressed,  —  the  weak, 
the  people,  all  who  are  forgotten.    Then  it  will  unveil 
grand  and  hidden  things  to  you.     But  it  will  do  more 
for  you  still.     It  will  bring  you  into  touch  with  the 
dead,  as  it  has  with  the  living.    The  great  sufferings 
of  history  will  no  longer  be  unintelligible  to  you.    You 
will  be  in  communication,  through  sacrifice  and  sorrow, 
with  those  who  have  lived  before  you.   Humanity,  which 
they  who  know  it  not  and  do  nothing  for  it  despise, 
will  seem  to  you  beautiful  because  of  all  it  has  suffered, 
and  you  will  love  it  the  more.    You  will  cling  to  it,  as 


ACTION  :  SUFFERING: 


203 


children  cling  to  their  mothers,  'in  tears,  and  it  will 
teach  you  the  secret  of  power,  of  hope,  of  faith,  which 
is  revealed  in  the  sanctuary  of  great  sorrows.  Do  not 
fear  that  your  youth  will  lose  its  gayety.  Suffering, 
like  work,  strengthens  the  capacity  for  happiness.  It 
sees  on  the  steep  paths  which  it  makes  you  climb,  sweet 
smiling  flowers  which  the  profane  have  never  known. 


# 


Suffering  is,  besides,  a  spur,  a  powerful  spring  of 
action.    Too  easy  an  existence  enervates ;  an  effeminate 
youth  is  a  bad  preparation  for  life.     It  is  a  good  thing 
to  bear  the  yoke  when  one  is  young.    The  burden  of 
happy  days  is  very  heavy  to  withstand  before  experi- 
ence comes  to  our  aid.    Let  us  rather  desire  a  little 
trouble ;  it  is  more  salutary.  It  hardens  the  will,  toughens 
the  skin,  and  prepares  for  liberty.    Then  it  is  more 
manly,  more  in  conformity  with  what  a  young  man 
should  wish,  —  that  is,  a  being  who  is  young  and  who 
wishes  to  become  a  man.    Take  the  best  men  of  the 
present  and  of  the  past.    They  have  all  endured  hard- 
ship, and  they  boast  of  it.     After  all,  these  things  are 
interesting  to  tell  in  after  days.     Meminisse  juvat. 
Doubtless  a  good  bed  and  a  good  table  are  not  to  be 
despised.     Let  us  not  despise  anything ;  let  us  rather 
improve  every  opportunity  for  enjoyment.    But  these 
are  not  the  things  that  grave  themselves  most  deeply  in 
our  memory.      We  recall    more  willingly  the  days 
when  we  have  been  hungry  and  have  slept  on  a  hard 
bed,  even  perhaps  beneath  the  stars.      I  do  not  wish 
any  one  to  undergo  hunger  or  cold,  —  in  short,  to 


204 


YOUTH. 


suffer ;  but  a  little  trouble  and  hardship  are  as  salt  for 
youth. 

This  is  why  we  should  be  thankful  if  we  were  bom 
in  modest  circumstances,  and,  when  this  is  not  the  case, 
should  seek  simplicity  in  tastes  and  needs.  1  could  wish 
that  there  were  a  greater  number  of  rich  young  men 
enamoured  of  labour,  exertion,  privation,  of  voluntary 
poverty  even ;  and  fewer  young  men  of  humble  origin 
ashamed  of  their  lot  and  of  their  condition,  —  always 
sedulous  to  appear  better  off  than  they  are,  and  spend- 
ing on  their  superfluities  what  their  parents  actually 
need. 

In  conclusion,  I  consider  that  suffering  is  a  friend, 
that  we  must  pay  it  royal  honours,  that  we  must  be 
thoroughly  persuaded  that  without  it  humanity  would 
have  remained  in  barbarism,  and  that  the  highest  pro- 
gress is  due  to  it. 

Every  young  man  with  a  heart  should  respect  it, 
should  venerate  it  above  no  matter  what  greatness, 
should  love  it,  and  should  kiss  its  blood-stained  foot- 
steps in  the  dust. 

4.  ^eDitatton  ant)  He^t* 

They  who  are  thinking  of  leaving  well-worn  paths 
must  create  for  themselves  a  strong  inner  life.  To  rec- 
ognize constantly  a  right  and  impartial  line  of  action, 
they  must  escape  from  time  to  time  from  outside  anx- 
ieties, from  the  sway  of  tendencies  and  parties,  and 
from  the  discordant  clamour  which  rends  the  air  about 
them.    I  claim  a  large  share  of  the  life  of  our  youth 


■i  **, 


ACTION:  MEDITATION  AND  REST. 


205 


for  meditation.  Where  to  find  it  is  the  question.  The 
other  day  in  walking  through  one  of  those  fair-grounds 
where,  with  the  perfected  apparatus  of  modern  civili- 
zation, such  a  lovely  uproar  is  created,  I  saw  this :  A 
young  man,  with  curly  locks  and  fine  features,  a  member 
doubtless  of  some  family  of  strollers,  who  had  re- 
turned to  the  paternal  van  for  his  vacation,  was  sitting 
on  a  camp-stool,  his  elbows  on  his  knees,  his  thumbs  in 
his  ears,  his  eyes  deep  in  a  book.  At  his  right  a  juggler 
was  shouting,  at  his  left  a  man  was  playing  a  trombone, 
a  big  drum  was  beating  its  loudest,  a  number  of  organs 
were  playing  different  airs  at  the  same  time,  accompa- 
nied by  the  deafening  notes  of  calliopes.  Dogs  were 
barking ;  pas$ers-by  were  singing,  shouting,  quarrelling ; 
the  young  man  alone  was  imperturbable.  I  watched 
him  for  a  long  time.  He  seemed  to  me  at  the  moment 
a  symbol.  If  we  wish  to  collect  our  thoughts,  nowa- 
days, we  must  do  as  he  did.  Let  us  imitate  this  brave 
lad,  who  by  force  of  will  created  silence  in  the  midst  of 
uproar.  We  must  acknowledge  that  his  power  of  con- 
centration is  not  given  to  every  one.  Still  we  can  per- 
haps acquire  it,  if  we  realize  the  value  of  meditation. 
But,  as  a  rule,  we  dread  it  rather  than  seek  it.  Every 
man  as  he  leaves  his  lecture,  his  office,  his  laboratory, 
his  workshop,  thinks  it  his  duty  to  take  measures 
against  the  danger  he  runs  in  remaining  tete-a-tete  with 
himself. 

Those  who  heard  John  the  Baptist,  moved  by  his 
words,  demanded  of  him,  **  What  shall  we  do  to  escape 
the  wrath  to  come  ? "  Their  question  reminds  me  by 
analogy  of  that  of  a  host  of  our  contemporaries :  "  What 


« 


■f 


f  ■ 


I 


i'l 


206 


YOUTH. 


shall  we  do,  what  shall  we  take  up,  to  escape  ourselves  ? " 
Are  they  afraid  of  being  in  bad  company,  when  they 
are  with  their  own  selves  alone  ?  One  would  say  so. 
They  prefer  the  least  interesting  and  the  most  harmful 
companions  to  solitude.  Some  would  rather  pay  to  be 
bored  in  a  crowd,  than  to  be  bored  by  themselves  with- 
out expense.  Nothing  is  more  interesting  than  to  notice 
all  the  contrivances,  all  the  ingenious  tricicery  made  use 
of  in  this  struggle  against  meditation.  We  insure  our- 
selves against  it  as  against  hail  or  fire.  Is  not  the  sou 
the  poor  man  spends  for  a  paper,  of  which  he  reads 
only  the  serial,  an  insurance  premium  ?  There  are  prov- 
ident people,  as  you  know,  who  always  carry  salts  with 
them  in  case  of  indisposition.  There  are  some  even 
who  carry  a  whole  pharmacy:  it  is  more  prudent. 
For  a  different  purpose,  others  have  always  about  them 
a  newspaper,  a  novel,  a  game  of  cards  or  solitaire.  As 
soon  as  there  is  an  instant  when  they  run  the  risk  of 
reflection  or  introspection,  quick !  out  comes  their 
preventive.  They  read  the  financial  bulletin  or  some 
chance  article,  or  work  out  a  game  of  solitaire,  —  the 
danger  is  averted ;  and  what  a  danger !  —  they  barely 
escaped  reflection.  It  is  the  fear  of  introspection  car- 
ried to  absurdity. 

The  result  is  that  many  men  become  strangers  to 
themselves.  All  the  intensity  of  life  is  on  the  surface. 
Channing  said :  "  Multitudes  of  men  live  and  die  as 
complete  strangers  to  themselves  as  are  to  us  lands 
which  are  barely  known  by  name,  and  which  no 
human  foot  has  trod."  At  certain  stages  of  history 
meditation  in  solitude  has  made  believers  lose  their  con- 


ACTION:  MEDITATION  AND  REST. 


207 


nection  with  the  world,  because  it  has  turned  their  at- 
tention entirely  to  introspection.  What  is  now  lost  is 
the  way  into  our  own  hearts.  We  have  been  very 
wrong  to  neglect  this  way.  We  hear  in  the  silence  of 
its  forgotten  windings  strong,  sweet  voices  to  which  our 
ears  had  grown  unused. 

The  solitude  from  which  we  fly  is  a  good  thing,  and 
meditation  is  salutary.  There  must  be  halting-places 
in  life.  Sit  thou  silent,  says  Isaiah;  and  it  is  wise 
often  so  to  do. 

You  will  say  that  what  I  propose  is  in  contra- 
diction with  the  action  which  I  showed  to  be  one  of 
the  essential  characteristics  of  the  new  ideal.  Not  at 
all.  The  source  of  rational  and  assured  action  is  in 
meditation. 

In  what  does  the  energy  of  the  will  and  the  strength 
and  security  of  conscience  consist  ?  In  the  ability  to 
be  self-reliant,  to  resist  outside  encroachments,  and  to 
strengthen  oneself  against  them  by  an  active  inner  life. 
To  give  oneself  to  reflection  is  not  to  fly  the  world  and 
grow  effeminate  in  unwholesome  isolation  or  in  sterile 
contemplation  of  self.  If  this  were  so,  we  would  say 
l^ce  soli !  To  give  oneself  to  reflection  is  to  forge  and 
furbish  arms,  that  we  may  wear  them^  in  battle  with  re- 
newed  strength.  It  is  to  fall  back  a'step  that  we  may 
leap  further  forward. 

Accompanying  all  great  outward  activity  must  be  an 
intense  inner  life.  Wherever  this  is  lacking,  activity 
degenerates  into  agitation.  Retirement,  solitude,  the 
desert,  have  played  their  rdle  in  all  fruitful  lives. 

Wherever  there  rises  in  the  world  a  voice  that  can 


\i\\ 


I 


208 


\OUTH. 


awake  response,  it  comes  from  a  mouth  that  knows  how 
to  be  silent.  The  hidden  source  of  moving  words  and 
heroic  acts  is  in  the  souPs  great  silences.  All  our  ener- 
gies concentrate  and  make  ready  in  meditation,  and 
when  the  time  comes,  break  forth  with  active  enthu- 
siasm. We  might  say  that  the  mind,  like  the  earth, 
has  its  long  winters  when  all  is  still  and  asleep,  its 
springtimes  with  awaking  and  growth,  and  then  its 
harvests.  There  is  here  a  law  which  one  cannot  oppose 
without  running  against  the  impossible.  It  is  true  of 
the  study  and  digestion  of  another's  knowledge  which 
must  sink  in  and  be  assimilated.  It  is  true,  above  all,  of 
individual  production.  All  mental  workers  should  re- 
member it,  if  they  would  not  create  ephemera  without 
ability  or  force.  The  curse  of  avocations  which  com- 
pel men  to  write  or  speak  at  a  fixed  time,  is  that  they 
create  artificial  production.  The  younger  one  is,  the 
worse  this  is  for  him.  When  we  are  too  hard  pressed, 
we  no  longer  work ;  we  fabricate.  I  would  always  urge 
a  young  man  who  is  concerned  for  his  individuality 
to  produce  without  haste.  He  had  better  let  his  ink 
dry  and  his  pen  rust  than  use  them  to  lay  immature 
thoughts  before  the  world.  The  same  is  true  of  actions. 
Outward  action  must  not  precede  inner  actioa  All 
that  is  premature*  is  false  and  unenduring.  Whence 
come  the  especial  virtue,  the  immortal  beauty,  of  those 
classic  masterpieces  which  we  know  as  poesy,  painting, 
or  sculpture  ?  In  good  measure  from  the  patient  travail 
of  a  work  bom  in  due  season,  without  feverishness  or 
artificial  aid.  How  much  poor  work  we  do,  because  we 
do  not  appreciate  the  strength  of  meditation,  nor  the 


ACTION:  MEDITATION  AND  REST. 


209 


secret  of  taking  time  to  draw  the  bow  to  its  utmost, 
that  the  arrow  may  fly  farther! 


* 


w 


Meditation  is  still  further  a  force,  because  it  assures 
the  unity  of  life.  Is  it  a  rider  who  goes  whither  his 
horse  wills  ?  No ;  it  is  not.  Those  who  cannot  relive 
their  past,  review  it,  and  establish  a  unity  of  aspirations, 
are  like  those  aimless  riders  who  let  themselves  be  car- 
ried here  or  there  at  the  caprice  of  their  steed.  Without 
knowing  it,  they  obey  a  thousand  outside  impressions, 
and  are  swayed  by  events.  They  are  not  individuali- 
ties ;  they  are  results. 

To  escape  this  unworthy  servitude,  wherein  so  many 
men  are  induced  to  undo  one  day  what  they  did  the 
day  before,  and  to  lose  all  the  fruits  of  life,  there  is  but 
one  way,  —  it  is  meditation.  Youth  must  review  its 
childhood ;  man  his  youth.  The  noblest  among  us,  both 
of  youth  and  of  ripe  age,  are  they  who  do  this.  What 
a  beautiful  life  is  that  in  which,  despite  all  outside 
changes,  there  is  formed  little  by  little  in  the  heart  a 
bond  of  confidence  between  its  different  periods ;  where 
youth  has  retained  naivete,  middle  age  exaltation  and 
enthusiam,  old  age  confidence  and  serenity,  and  where 
these  lives  summed  up  in  one  unite  in  saying,  "  We' 
will  so  continue."  A  wretched  existence,  on  the  other 
hand,  is  that  where  we  see  ourselves  wandering  through 
a  dead  past  like  a  stranger,  who  says,  sings,  and  loves 
things  outside  our  comprehension.  Woe  to  the  people 
who  forget  their  history,  the  men  who  forget  their 

past! 

14 


I 


210 


YOUTH. 


King  Ahasuerus  had  no  sooner  begun  to  hear  the  re- 
cital of  his  reign  than  he  found  many  wrongs  to  right. 
Let  us  allow  that  impartial  chronicler  whom  we  call 
conscience  to  decipher  from  the  tablets  of  vanished 
days  what  we  then  were,  what  we  have  suffered, 
accomplished,  or  neglected.  Let  us  treat  with  respect 
that  inner  voice  which  cries  to  us  with  so  much 
insistence  and  authority,  5/a,  viator! 

Stop,   pilgrim!    halt,   turn   thy  thoughts    inward! 
Whether  they  make  thee  weep  or  smile,  they  are  alike 
salutary.  We  always  rise  from  meditation  stronger  and 
better,  because  more  true  to  ourselves.     A  life  without 
.  remembrance  is  a  broken  chain.     The  most  valuable 
;  part  of  itself  is  lost ;  it  is  worthless.     Of  what  use  to 
.labour,  to  struggle,  to  run  and  hurry,  if  we  drop  all  into 
•a  gulf  of  oblivion.    Sta,  viator !    Do  not  say  you  are 
•  in  haste.     Of  what  use  is  haste,  when  it  leads  to  an 
^  abyss  ?    He  who  does  not  draw  off  his  moral  balance- 
sheet  nor  relive  his  life,  who  performs  his  tasks  and 
goes  his  way  forgetting  them  as  stupid  birds  forget 
their  eggs  in  the  sand,  runs  to  certain  ruin.    When  he 
expects  it  least,  he  will  break  his  head  against  some 
rock  of  his  own  planting.    No  ;  there  is  neither  satis- 
factory excuse  nor  pretext,  nor  is  there  any  possible 
good  reason  to  allege  against  the  moral  necessity  of 
pausing  and  interrogating  our  conscience. 


The  same  necessity  exists  for  him  who  wishes  an 
intellectual  life  of  any  value.  If  you  do  not  wish 
your  intelligence  to  degenerate  into  incoherence,  into 


ACTION  :  MEDITATION  AND  REST. 


211 


the  most  improbable  medley  of  contrarieties,  you  must 
sometimes  stop,  examine  what  you  have  done,  and  test 
its  soundness.  In  a  word,  it  is  imperative  to  escape 
from  outside  clamour  and  from  the  suggestion  of 
others'  thoughts,  to  return  to  the  unfashionable  habit 
of  thinking  for  oneself.  Otherwise  there  will  soon 
remain,  as  the  fruit  of  an  ill-brdered  intellectual  life, 
only  a  practically  sterile  existence.  Actions  destroy  one 
another,  like  thoughts. 


What  shall  we  say  of  religious  belief  ?  Can  we  still 
give  that  name  to  the  bizarre  and  heterogeneous  collec- 
tion of  fragments,  new  and  old,  of  every  kind,  which 
so  often  constitute  the  structure  of  our  religious  con- 
ceptions ?  Heedlessness  alone  seems  to  have  designed 
this  tottering  edifice,  this  shelter  which  is  to  protect 
us.  Here,  more  than  anywhere,  must  there  be  silence 
and  reflection.  Young  believers,  ask  yourselves  what 
you  believe,  and  if  you  really  and  personally  believe  it. 
Is  your  faith  a  living  one,  a  part  of  your  very  blood  and 
substance,  or  is  it  only  an  amalgamation  of  unrelated 
principles  which  encumber  your  inner  life?  It  is  so 
hard  to  see  one's  most  absolute  beliefs  resolve  into 
smoke,  and  one's  most  ardent  assurances  give  place  at 
the  critical  moment  to  fear  and  uncertainty.  To  avoid 
the  frightful  solitude  in  those  supreme  encounters  where 
borrowed  beliefs  fall  into  dust  atyjeshock  of  trial,  we  • 
must  often  withdraw  into  silenceT^rtiere,  in  the  pres-  '. 
ence  of  God  alone  and  of  reality,  faith  purifies  and  • 
strengthens  itself,  as  it  becomes  more  simple  and  more 
true.     It  brushes  aside  the  dross  which  routine  and 


212 


YOUTH. 


■ 

1 


man's  fears  mingle  with  it  for  our  undoing,  and  we 
leave  that  austere  school  where  holy  truth  disciplines  us, 
with  a  firmer  heart. 


« 


I  will  not  stop  at  urging  meditation,  I  will  preach  also 
rest.  Do  not  laugh.  If  there  are  those  who  loaf  too 
much,  there  are  also  fhose  who  do  not  loaf  enough. 
Nothing  is  gained  by  working  too  hard.  Close  the 
book,  put  out  the  lamp, 

Et  jam  tempus  equum  fumantia  solvere  colla. 

You  have  no  time  to  lose,  you  say  ?  To  rest  is  to 
gain  time,  not  to  lose  it.  You  will  work  much  better 
after  it.  There  is  a  limit  to  all  things :  overwork  ends 
in  stupefaction.  I  appeal  to  all  those  who  have  passed 
examinations  in  evidence.  For  my  part,  I  am  in  favour 
of  rest. 

On  a  summer's  day  when,  as  a  tourist,  one  has 
tramped  in  the  blazing  sunshine  over  long  dusty  high- 
ways and  up  steep  paths  where  stones  have  hurt  the 
feet,  how  good  it  is  to  throw  down  the  pack  and  staff, 
and  sit  in  the  shade !  This  is  the  most  enjoyable  part 
of  these  excursions.  "The  thought  of  a  laggard  this," 
you  will  exclaim,  "  the  precepts  of  him  who  amid  the 
beauties  of  Nature  prefers  a  mossy  pillow,  and  will- 
ingly leaves  to  others  the  glory  of  great  exertion  and 
painful  climbs.  It  recalls  the  famous  Suave  mart 
magno  of  Lucretius."  Not  the  least  in  the  world. 
The  thought  is  inspired  by  necessity  itself,  by  the  laws 
inherent  in  human  affairs.  He  who  knows  not  how 
to  halt,  knows  not  how  to  march,  or  to  profit  by  his 


ACTION:  MEDITATION  AND  REST. 


213 


marches.  He  must  sometimes  sit  down,  look  behind 
and  before  him,  recall  and  foresee,  consider  his  strength 
and  his  time,  and  listen  to  that  which  the  blades  of 
grass,  the  ants,  the  birds,  say  to  the  traveller  as  he 
pauses  for  an  instant.  He  must  sit  down  to  perceive, 
through  the  sounds  and  forms  of  things  which  pass, 
the  voice  of  God  and  the  whisper  of  the  soul. 

He  who  cannot  thus  pause  will  carry  away  but  little 
from  his  walks,  though  they  reach  around  the  world. 
It  is  the  same  with  life.  To  estimate  it,  to  appreciate 
it,  to  enjoy  it,  to  get  its  meaning,  we  must  sometimes 
sit  on  its  banks  and  watch  it  flow  by  us.  The  best 
parts  of  life,  and  the  most  useful,  are  these  halts. 
When  we  are  harassed  in  body  or  mind,  —  when  back, 
brain,  or  heart  is  weary, —  it  is  always  good  to  remember 
that  one  is  neither  a  slave  nor  a  beast  of  burden.  Fa- 
tigue obscures  our  physical  and  moral  vision.  Accord- 
ing as  we  are  perplexed  and  lassitude  or  fever  takes 
hold  of  us,  does  a  clear  insight  escape  us.  Our  task 
seems  the  more  difficult  when  we  are  exasperated  and 
persist  in  it.  Like  burdens  which,  at  first  light,  seem 
heavier  as  one  bears  them,  and  end  by  becoming  in- 
supportable, uninterrupted  work  turns  into  drudgery. 
Then  come  terrible  moments  when  we  feel  ourselves 
among  inextricable  difficulties,  and  beat  our  heads 
against  insurmountable  obstacles.  This  is  as  true  of 
physical  as  of  mental  labour.  Both  are,  after  all,  the 
application  of  the  same  energy  in  a  single  direction. 
This  energy  increases  with  moderate  exercise,  but 
is  disheartened  and  weakened  by  excess  of  it.  De- 
moralization easily  seizes  him  whom   undue   labour 


214 


YOUTH. 


u 


has  exhausted.    We  might  say  that  it  lies  in  wait  for- 
the  worker,  to  spring  on  him  the  moment  he  bends  be- 
neath his  burden. 

As  far  as  we  can,  then,  we  must  take  measures  to 
give  ourselves  a  respite,  before  it  is  too  late.  The  right 
to  rest  is  among  the  most  sacred  of  the  rights  of  man. 
He  who  does  not  enjoy  it,  who  hinders  others  from  en- 
joying it,  sins  against  humanity.  As  soon  as  regular 
periods  of  rest  and  reflection  are  introduced  into  one*s 
life,  the  whole  being  is  renewed.  Man  at  rest  is  like 
one  undergoing  a  cure.  His  moral  being  has  a  change 
of  place  and  air.  He  considers  everything  from  a  dif- 
ferent point  of  view.  He  looks  as  a  spectator  on  the 
field  where  he  is  working,  and  regarding  it  from  a 
more  distant  and  a  higher  plane,  understands  better  his 
task.  While  at  his  work  he  saw  but  its  details ;  now  he 
sees  its  entirety  and  its  environment.  He  sees  the  lives 
and  work  of  others  as  they  affect  his  personal  activity. 
He  establishes  comparisons  and  learns  lessons.  All  this 
will  help  him  when  he  takes  his  accustomed  place.  But, 
above  all,  in  rest  he  experiences  true  pleasure.  Fatigue 
is  a  disease  of  which  rest  is  the  cure,  and  the  happiest 
of  mortals  are  its  convalescents.  The  contrasts  they 
feel  in  escaping  the  powers  of  death  and  destruction 
and  in  being  reborn  into  life,  are  for  them  a  source  of 
infinite  enjoyment  such  as  no  one  else  can  fancy.  If 
the  slothful  but  knew  what  the  worker  enjoys  in  rest, 
they  would  set  to  work  without  question.  The  years 
of  idleness  given  to  that  which  it  is  agreed  to  call 
pleasure,  are  not  worth  an  hour  of  the  repose  of  real 
workers.    It  is  for  them  that  God  unveils,  when  they 


ACTION  :  MEDITATION  AND  REST. 


215 


take  their  ease,  a  whole  world  of  beauty  and  richness 
which  no  one  else  can  know.  He  says  to  them  in  his 
twilights  and  setting  suns,  and  in  the  healing  silence  of 
compassionate  night,  eternal  truths  which  can  be  heard 
only  when  one  has  borne  the  heat  and  burden  of  the 
day. 


n 


216 


YOUTH. 


CHAPTER  V. 

ENJOYMENT. 

Wer  nicht  lieb  Wein,  Weib,  und  Gesanjf, 
Der  bleibt  ein  Narr  sein  Leben  lang. 

Luther. 
Live  joyously ! 

Rabelais. 

Be  not,  as  the  hypocrites,  of  a  sad  countenance. 

Jesus 
Xaipt !  (Greek  salutation.) 

I.  pifa0ureflf  anD  Distractions. 

•THERE  are  three  classes  of  individuals  who  disap- 
*  prove  of  pleasure.  There  are,  doubtless,  more 
than  three,  but  to  enumerate  them  all  would  be  to  do 
them  too  much  honour.  It  would,  be  as  dreary  as  a 
succession  of  rainy  days.  Three  will  suffice,  —  utilita- 
rians, ascetics,  and  pessimists. 

The  first  proscribe  pleasure  because  it  is  useless  and, 
according  to  them,  makes  us  lose  time  without  any 
equivalent.    Their  reason  is  final,  as  you  see. 

The  second  condemn  it  because  it  is  dangerous,  in 
their  eyes,  and  jeopardizes  their  salvation.  There  has 
existed,  from  time  immemorial,  a  wide-spread  concep- 
tion of  religion  wherein  sombre  hues  predominate. 
God  himself  is  joyless ;  and  man  must  sacrifice  to  this 
gloomy  majesty  enthroned   in  the  midst  of   eternal 


ENJOYMENT:  PLEASURES  AND  DISTRACTIONS.     217 

silence  his  joy  and  his  poor  fleeting  smile,  lest   he 
should  offend  Him  who  never  smiles. 

Pessimists,  finally,  deny  pleasure  because  it  deranges 
their  system.  It  is  always  so.  In  philosophy  when 
an}'thing  embarrasses  you  or  does  not  frame  in  with 
your  little  theory,  it  must  be  suppressed.  As  I  have  to 
speak  on  a  subject  so  thoroughly  disapproved  by  such 
weighty  authorities,  I  do  not  care  to  stand  alone  and 
have  sought  support.  I  have  cited  at  the  head  of  this 
chapter  the  words  of  several  persons  whom  I  consider 
sufficiently  well  known  and  of  sufficient  standing  to 
sustain  my  views.  I  have  added  to  theirs  a  word 
which  is  not  the  expression  of  any  one  man,  but  which 
incarnates  the  Whole  soul  of  a  people,  — x«itpc,  the 
Greek  salutation.  It  recalls  the  good  old  exclamation 
of  our  fathers,  gat.  It  is  therefore  with  a  good  con- 
science and  in  good  company  that  I  enter  on  this  field. 
I  propose  to  treat,  first,  of  pleasure  and  distractions,  and 
then,  descending  to  depths  more  profound,  of  joy  in 

the  abstract. 

# 
*  # 

As  we  are  speaking  of  pleasures  and  distractions,  it 
is  proper  to  point  out  their  origin.  Just  as  it  is  not  cor- 
rect to  say  that  priests  invented  religion,  doctors  disease, 
cooks  hunger,  and  vinedressers  thirst ;  so  it  is  absurd  to 
imagine  that  distractions  have  been  invented  by  moun- 
tebanks, jugglers,  and  **  artists"  of  every  kind,  whose 
bread  is  won  by  amusing  others,  but  who  often  do  as 
ill  service  to  their  vocation  as  do  bad  priests,  charlatans, 
and  dealers  in  adulterated  food  products.  The  origin  of 
distractions  is  to  be  sought  in  a  very  real  and  very 


I 


218 


YOUTH. 


legitimate  need,  the  need  of  diversion.  Rest  alone  is 
not  enough.  It  hardly  satisfies  the  brute.  Animals 
themselves,  especially  the  higher  animals,  have  their 
plays  and  their  amusements.  How  much  more  does 
man  need  them,  especially  the  young  man !  We  are  so 
constituted  that  the  continual  repetition  of  impressions, 
even  though  they  are  agreeable,  enervates  and  wearies  us. 
How  must  it  be  then  with  those  severe  tasks,  those  absorb- 
ing occupations,  which  use  up  in  time  the  most  robust 
strength.  Youth  becomes  deformed  and  weary  much 
sooner  than  middle  age.  The  student,  the  young  work- 
man, the  young  employi  who  have  never  or  only  too 
rarely  a  chance  for  diversion,  will  not  be  slow  to  suffer 
from  its  lack.    Their  lot  is  that  of  the  slave. 

If,  then,  pleasure  is  a  necessity  and  even  a  duty,  if 
diversion  sustains  and  renews  us  notwithstanding  its 
detractors,  it  is  worthy  of  our  serious  attention.  We 
have  to  deal  here,  not  with  a  secondary  and  unimpor- 
tant phenomenon,  but  with  one  of  the  most  active 
factors  of  life.  The  question  of  the  employment  of 
our  leisure  and  of  the  nature  of  our  pleasures  is  a  vital 
one.  The  means  of  distraction,  indeed,  are  infinitely 
varied,  and  while  some  are  salutary  others  are  perni- 
cious. To  a  certain  extent  the  outcome  of  man's  entire 
activity  depends  on  how  he  employs  his  leisure.  Whole- 
some amusements  make  him  better  and  strengthen 
him ;  unwholesome  amusements  ruin  the  individual,  and 
become  an  agent  in  the  dissolution  of  society. 

It  is  not  enough  to  know  how  to  work,  we  must 
know  how  to  amuse  ourselves.  We  admit,  without 
qualification,  that  our  age  is  not  one  of  those  which 


ENJOYMENT:  PLEASURES  AND  DISTRACTIONS.     219 

have  known  how  to  give  true  and  substantial  satisfac- 
tion and  a  right  direction  to  man's  inborn  need  for  diver- 
sion and  relaxation.  The  age  is  a  devotee  of  pleasure ; 
it  has  invented  amusements  and  distractions  which  our 
fathers  never  knew ;  but  one  is  strictly  within  the  truth 
in  saying  that  it  does  not  know  how  to  amuse  itself. 
The  art  has  been  lost,  the  recipe  forgotten,  like  that  of 
Greek  fire  and  Roman  cement.  The  history  of  leisure 
and  of  its  employment  is  very  instructive  and  very  in- 
teresting, although  the  materials  for  many  parts  of  it 
are  difficult  to  get  together.  There  are,  however,  cer- 
tain principles  which  are  met  with  everywhere.  In  the 
youth  of  any  people  the  means  for  healthful  diversion 
and  for  virile  pleasures  are  in  keeping  with  their 
strength,  their  virtue,  and  their  power  of  expansion. 
Such  are  racing,  gymnastics,  swimming,  wrestling,  out- 
door sports,  everything  that  stirs  the  blood  and  makes 
the  body  supple,  everything  that  increases  the  joy  of  liv- 
ing. In  the  old  age  of  any  people  unmanly  amusements, 
excessive  and  often  shameful  pleasures  which  gratify 
the  senses,  stupefy  the  body,  and  encourage  idleness, 
are  in  keeping  with  their  decadence  and  decrepitude. 
Indoor  life  succeeds  out-of-door  life.  We  notice  this 
evolution  among  the  ancients.  The  Greeks  of  the 
decadence  abandoned  the  salutary  and  manly  prac- 
tice of  wrestling,  wherein  their  ancestors  were  distin- 
guished and  to  which  they  were  devoted,  for  wine, 
play,  and  corrupting  pleasures.  The  young  Romans  of 
the  time  of  the  Empire  could  not  even  lift  the  discs 
which  their  ancestors'  vigorous  arms  had  hurled. 
But  as  a  general  rule  and  despite  the  alternations  of 


220 


YOUTH. 


1 


greatness  and  decadence  in  nations  from  ancient  to 
modern  times,  there  is  an  increasing  tendency  toward 
sedentary  amusements. 

Relaxations  which  take  the  form  of  bodily  exercise 
steadily  decrease.  In  the  Middle  Ages  the  influence  of 
the  Church  and  of  asceticism,  it  is  true,  makes  itself 
strongly  felt.  The  body  is  despised,  as  of  no  impor- 
tance or  as  a  clog  upon  the  soul.  To  weaken  and  neg- 
lect it  as  much  as  possible  is  the  prevailing  ideal.  But 
the  injury  which  asceticism  does  a  part  of  society  by  its 
contempt  for  bodily  exercise,  and  even  for  amusement 
in  general,  which  it  considers  wicked,  is  counterbalanced 
by  the  influence  of  chivalry,  where  the  entire  educa- 
tion is  based  on  vigorous  physical  development.  One 
extreme  corrects  the  other. 

The  people  themselves  and  their  youth,  although 
very  unhappy,  preserve,  even  during  the  darkest  ages, 
that  desire  for  happiness  which  betrays  itself  in  amuse- 
irents  often  uproarious,  in  eccentricities  and  in  follies. 
There  are  many  out-of-door  sports.  As  we  approach 
the  Renaissance,  a  more  healthful  teaching,  and  one  in- 
spired by  a  different  conception  of  life,  gives  to  amuse- 
ment a  place  even  in  education.  Games  and  sports  are 
rehabilitated  in  the  eyes  of  thinkers.  Take  Rabelais  and 
Montaigne,  for  instance.  Their  ideas  echo  the  views  not 
only  of  an  elites  they  reflect  those  of  their  entire  epoch. 
The  Reformation  too  is  a  rehabilitation  of  enjoyment 
in  the  great  department  of  morals.  The  rigours  of 
Calvin  at  Geneva  are  rather  a  necessary  protest,  an 
indispensable  means  of  suppressing  libertinism,  than  a 
condemnation  of  enjoyment.    We  must  read  Luther, 


ENJOYMENT:  PLEASURES  AND  DISTRACTIONS.     221 

must  see  him  live  and  hear  him  sing,  hear  him  draw  up 
his  indictment  against  melancholy  and  his  apology  for 
light-heartedness,  —  naming  the  first  a  vice,  a  kind  of 
squalor  of  the  soul,  the  second  a  virtue,  —  if  we  would 
understand  the  position  of  the  Reformation  on  this  sub- 
ject. In  the  seventeenth  century  there  is  everywhere 
an  entire  reaction.  A  factitious,  an  artificial,  life  is 
now  in  the  ascendant,  —  a  life  of  the  salons  and  the 
court,  coincident  with  an  epoch  of  rigid  dogmatism, 
nearly  without  precedent,  and  with  long-continued  na- 
tional calamities.  Joy  then  underwent  an  eclipse  easy  to 
understand.  The  time  to  weep  comes  oftener  to  the  peo- 
ple than  the  time  to  laugh.  But  let  us  hasten  on  to  our 
own  times.  A  single  glance  at  our  amusements  com- 
pared, as  a  whole,  with  those  of  the  past,  is  enough  to 
show  that  they  assume  more  and  more  of  a  sedentary 
character.  The  tendency  can  be  seen  in  all  strata  of 
society.  When  we  think  of  the  secluded  life  of  mental 
workers  or  of  the  toiling  populace  of  our  great  cities, 
we  cannot  but  deplore  this  state  of  things,  —  the  rather 
that  these  sedentary  amusements,  of  whatever  kind  they 
are,  from  the  most  innocent  to  the  most  depraving, 
have  the  disadvantage  that  they  excite  the  nervous  sys- 
tem. To  quiet  a  brain  overwrought  by  feverish  labour, 
we  have,  more  than  ever,  need  of  air,  of  movement,  of 
healthful  physical  exercise,  to  repair  in  part  the  injury 
inflicted  by  bad  air  and  by  the  cramped  and  homicidal 
attitudes  of  the  workshop,  the  office,  or  the  school. 
And  what  do  we  do  ?  We  go  to  a  play,  in  places  where 
smoking,  drinking,  and  gambling  are  going  on ;  or  we 
read  —  and  it  is  of  the  majority  I  speak  —  something 


I 


222 


YOUTH. 


as  exciting  as  possible.    The  dose  of  emotion  which  is 
administered  in  certain  kinds  of  literature  and  some 
plays,  is  that  needed  for  flabby  nerves  which  must  be 
excited  artificially  to  make  them  vibrate  anew.   It  is  gal- 
vanizing.     Even  reading,  excellent  in  character  though 
it  be,  is  fatal  when  it  monopolizes  the  best  part  of  our 
leisure.    We  need  an  entire  change.    In  saying  this  I 
include  the  whole  world  without  exception.    But  it  is 
the  youth  of  the  lower  classes  which  excites  my  pity, 
because  it  does  itself  so  much  harm.    When,  worn  out, 
harassed,  enfeebled,  it  thirsts  for  a  little  relaxation,  hap- 
piness, or  forgetf  ulness,  there  are  open  to  it  only  injurious 
distractions  and  poisonous  pleasures,  —  alcohol,  licen- 
tiousness, bad  literature.    We  are  here  face  to  face  with 
a  very  serious  evil,  and  one  which  among  its  other  griev- 
ous results  for  morality,  the  public  health,  and  the  peace 
of  society,  has  this,  more  to  be  regretted  than  the  others, 
—  it  is  killing  joyousness.     What  are  life  and  youth 
without  it  ?    If  we  pollute  its  source,  you  might  there- 
after offer  us  the  world  and  all  that  it  contains,  but  it 
would  not  repair  the  wrong.    Without  joyousness  all  is 
hollow,  insipid,  dead. 


*  # 


I  have  hailed  with  delight  the  renaissance  of  out-of- 
door  sports,  games  of  strength  and  of  skill  among 
students ;  and  I  pray  that  the  tendency  in  this  direction 
may  increase  daily,  and  may  spread  among  the  masses. 

Youth  cannot  but  be  the  gainer,  both  as  respects  its 
education  in  general  and  its  happiness,  by  a  reform  in 
the  employment  of  its  leisure  and  the  choice  of  its 
pleasures.    There  are  a  hundred  ways  of  being  happy, 


ENJOYMENT:  PLEASURES  AND  DISTRACTIONS.     223 

• 

and  of  diverting  oneself  royally,  while  at  the  same 
time  restoring  a  lost  equilibrium.  What  we  need  is  a 
return  to  simplicity,  to  those  healthful  and  vigorous 
influences  which  soothe,  calm,  and  make  us  love  life, 
instead  of  those  artificial  pleasures  which  engender  a 
disgust  for  it. 

There  is  one  kind  of  enjoyment  which  is  ever  new, 
and  which  combines  mental  recreation  with  physical  ex- 
ercise, while  it  holds  an  inexhaustible  fund  of  delightful 
surprises,  —  it  is  the  long  pedestrian  trip,  pack  on  back, 
across  country.  Young  Frenchman,  take  the  staff  of 
the  old  companions  of  the  tour  of  France,  and  like 
them  measure,  step  by  step,  your  native  land  with  your 
own  feet,  that  you  may  love  it  better  for  knowing  it 
better.  The  first  imbecile  you  meet  can  sleep  on 
the  railway;  but  what  has  he  seen  in  his  hundred 
leagues'  run  ?  Two  or  three  buffets ;  that  is  all.  This 
sort  of  thing  ends  in  our  knowing  nothing  of  our 
native  land.  If  youth  were  to  acquire  a  liking  for 
those  long  walking-trips  made  by  ten  or  twelve  light- 
hearted  and  sturdy  comrades,  what  good  it  would  do 
itself,  while  setting  the  best  of  examples.  We  must,  at 
any  cost,  get  out  of  ruts  and  recover  our  power  of  en- 
joyment. The  forest  with  its  strong  fragrance,  its 
voices,  its  strength,  the  mountain  with  its  breezes  and 
its  vast  horizons,  the  sea  with  its  might  and  its  poetry, 
are  the  nurses  of  youth.  It  is  to  them  that  it  must  go 
to  gain  strengh  and  life. 

IVem  Gott  will  recbte  Gunst  enveisfrtf 
Den  scbickt  er  in  die  weite  Well ! 

ElCHENDORF. 

* 
*  # 


ill 


224 


YOUTH. 


But  I  hasten  to  a  matter  which  interests  me  espe- 
cially; namely,  singing.  The  decadence  of  singing 
among  youth  and  among  the  masses  is  well  known. 
I  hope  that  it  may  spring  up  again,  in  the  interests 
of  happiness,  of  good  living,  and  of  public  spirit.  I 
dream  of  a  renaissance  of  song  among  the  people  to 
which  educated  youth  can  contribute  greatly.  What- 
ever it  sings  the  people  repeats. 

Make  us  a  fine  collection  of  student  songs  on  all 
those  subjects  which  stir  the  heart  of  man,  let  it  be  an 
echo  from  every  comer  of  the  land  and  of  every 
period  of  our  history,  —  a  collection  suited  to  the  peo- 
ple, and  one  wherein  sings  the  very  soul  of  France. 
We  need  this  because  we  must  sing,  and,  in  default  of 
something  better,  we  sing  anything,  no  matter  what. 
In  our  cities,  even  in  the  midst  of  all  those  discordant 
noises  which  conspire  against  man's  ear  and  voice,  the 
youth  of  the  people  finds  a  way  to  show  its  liking  for 
song.  I  see  young  girls  and  lads  gather  in  groups  in 
the  courts  and  squares,  where  they  are  safe  from  vehi- 
cles, and  listen  almost  religiously  to  some  guitar  or 
violin  player,  who  sings  to  his  own  accompaniment. 
Twenty  times  does  he  repeat  the  same  refrain.  Pres- 
ently some  know  it  and  sing  it  with  him.  They  buy 
the  song,  and  go  their  way  humming  it  over  and  over. 
Sometimes  it  is  very  improper,  but  not  always;  and  1 
notice  with  infinite  pleasure  that  they  sing  with  very 
much  more  feeling  and  conviction  certain  excellent 
songs,  poor  in  rhyme,  but  whose  burden  is  love,  suffer- 
ing, and  the  affairs  of  humanity.  Often,  caught  in  the 
improvised  circle  of  eager  pupils  of  a  chance  professor. 


fli" 


ENJOYMENT:  PLEASURES  AND  DISTRACTIONS.     225 

and  a  witness  of  the  ardent  craving  of  the  masses  for 
song,  have  I  understood  better  than  anywhere  else  the 
void  which  the  song  as  it  dies  on  the  lips  leaves  in  the 
heart ;  and  I  have  dreamed  a  dream  as  serious  as  it 
will  seem  to  you  eccentric.    It  is  this :  — 

He  who,  as  a  new  troubadour,  traverses  France  with 
no  matter  what  instrument,  and  teaches  the  people  to 
sing  of  love,  of  joy,  of  grief,  of  death,  of  the  father- 
land, of  Nature,  of  all  that  is  old  yet  ever  young,  of 
all  that  lies  sleeping  in  every  heart  and  only  asks  to  be 
awakened,  will  be  a  benefactor  of  humanity  worthy  to 
figure  among  the  hosts  of  saints  and  martyrs.  When 
we  see  this  craving  for  song,  so  noble,  so  legitimate, 
and  for  the  most  part  so  illy  satisfied,  so  unworthily  led 
astray  and  taken  advantage  of,  we  feel  both  pity  and 
indignation.  O  France,  thou  land  of  pleasant  speech, 
who  on  the  threshold  of  new  epochs,  in  simple  and 
harmonious  strains  didst  teach  the  nations  song, — 
land  of  love,  of  wine,  of  sunshine,  —  wilt  thou  see  the 
melody  poured  from  thy  generous  heart  from  age  to 
age,  silenced,  and  silenced  before  silly  and  pernicious 
rhymes  ?  No,  it  shall  never  be  !  Thy  old  unconquered 
soul  will  sing  again  the  old  songs.  The  trouba- 
dour whom  I  await  shall  be  thy  youth,  —  thy  whole 
youth. 

Though  I  fain  would  not,  yet  I  must  speak  on  a  very 
painful  point,  which  1  cannot  avoid  in  considering  this 
subject ;  namely,  the  discredit  into  which  amusements 
have  fallen  through  their  abuse.  There  are,  alas !  many 
things,  harmless  in  themselves,  which  we  can  hardly 
any  longer  permit,  because  of  this.    Such,  for  instance, 

15 


226 


YOUTH. 


I 


I 
I 


f 


is  dancing.  What  diversion  is  older  and  more  charm- 
ing ?  Dancing  in  the  open  air  has  so  many  excellent 
advantages  for  youth  that  it  is  a  shame  to  see  it  be- 
come the  monopoly  of  questionable  assemblages.  Oh 
the  good  old  wedding-dances,  where  the  most  staid 
persons  danced  with  the  young  and  with  the  people! 
I  have  never  seen  anything  like  it  in  our  day,  except 
in  some  out-of-the-way  comer,  or  occasionally  on  a 
night  of  the  Fourteenth  of  July.  And  on  one  of 
those  occasions  so  rarely  met  with,  where  men  of  all 
classes  of  society  amuse  themselves  in  happy  unison,  I 
have  always  experienced  a  peculiar  emotion.  It  is  so 
good  to  see  joyousness  pass  like  a  sunbeam  over  all 
these  faces  wherein  we  can  read  so  many  different  lots 
in  life.  But  public  manners  have  become  such  that  a 
sight  like  this  is  now  refused  us.  Except  among  inti- 
mates, where  we  are  suffocated  with  heat  and  dust, 
dancing  presents  innumerable  disadvantages  which  our 
grandfathers  and  our  grandmothers  never  knew.  It 
is  the  same  with  a  host  of  good  old  customs.  It  is 
a  sad  thing  to  say,  but  as  it  is  true,  we  must  point  it 
out,  that  we  may  organize  against  it :  The  world 
is  given  over  to  abuse,  to  that  great  murderer,  that 
destroyer  of  right  usage.  When  this  wretch  has  poi- 
soned the  springs,  the  water  of  the  very  rocks  is  sus- 
pected of  impurity.  This  is  why  uprightness  of  life 
and  virtue  have  fled  to  neutral  ground,  and  become 
that  dull,  washed-out  thing  which  consists  above  every- 
thing in  abstaining  and  sometimes  in  playing  the  fool 
in  the  desire  to  play  an  angel's  part.  After  having 
disfigured  humanity  with  vice,  we  distort  virtue  itself. 


ENJOYMENT  :  PLEASURES  AND  DISTRACTIONS.     227 

We  know  it  only,  so  to  speak,  as  depressing  and  even 
—  say  it  we  must  — tiresome.  From  the  standpoint  of 
youth,  this  is  a  misfortune. 

Who  will  give  us  back  all  those  healthful,  vigorous, 
and  pleasing  diversions  in  which  the  joy  of  living  is 
incarnate,  as  are  the  sunbeams  in  flowers  ?  Their  elders 
can  in  this  do  much  for  youth.  I  exhort  all  serious 
persons — the  aged,  parents,  teachers,  the  clergy  of  every 
denomination,  whoever  is  interested  in  good  things  and 
in  a  normal  life,  whoever  retains  his  sensibilities — to 
come  to  the  rescue  of  youth.  It  is  not  right  that  we 
should  have  separate  pleasures.  The  loveliest  family 
parties  are  those  where  old  age  smiles  at  youth,  and 
where  every  age  is  represented,  from  grandparents  to 
children.  Every  stage  of  life  is  there  then,  and  how 
beautiful  in  their  contrasts !  What  is  true  of  the  fam- 
ily is  true  also  of  society  in  general. 

Frederic  Froebel  used  to  say :  "  Let  us  live  for  our 
children."  Let  us  borrow  his  motto.  Let  us  live  for 
youth,  and  it  will  live  for  the  right,  and  its  joy  will  be 
pure. 

Our  fathers  delivered  the  holy  land  from  the  infidel. 
There  is  another  holy  land  which  brigands,  thieves,  the 
profane,  pollute  every  day.  It  is  the  land  of  laughter 
and  of  pleasure.  They  have  so  thoroughly  ravaged 
and  disfigured  it  that  it  is  not  recognizable.  But  by 
the  God  of  springtimes  and  of  the  stars,  by  the  lov- 
ing-kindness which  gives  the  fresh  laugh  to  the  lips  of 
childhood  and  the  sweet  intoxication  to  the  heart  of 
youth,  this  holy  land  shall  not  remain  in  the  hands 
of  infidels.    It  is  ours,  and  we  shall  regain  it. 


228 


YOUTH. 


2.  3|oBoufi(neflffif* 

Amusements  and  the  different  kinds  of  pleasure  are, 
after  all,  only  an  outward  evidence.  The  pure  wine 
which  we  pour  into  the  glasses  is  joyousness.  Just  as 
the  grape  finds  in  the  soil,  the  rain,  and  the  sun  those 
elements  of  its  sap  which  ripen  it,  so  joyousness  is  the 
matured  fruit  of  a  good  life.  It  is  won  by  the  valiant 
and  the  brave.  It  is  not  to  be  had  for  the  asking.  Let 
us  look  a  little  into  this  truth.  Youth  has  great  need 
to  be  impressed  with  it. 

The  barometer  rises  and  falls.  The  simple  change  of 
position  of  the  mercury  in  a  glass  tube  gives  us  valu- 
able information,  and  furnishes  us  a  number  of  facts  as 
to  the  state  of  the  atmosphere.  Often  in  noting  its  mark- 
ings, —  rain,  wind,  tempest,  calm,  fine  weather,  settled 
weather,  —  I  am  surprised  to  find  myself  forgetting,  of  a 
sudden,  the  outer  world  and  thinking  of  the  world 
within,  of  the  ceaseless  change  which  characterizes  it, 
which  is  reflected  in  our  dispositions,  and  of  which  the 
immense  diversity  produces  joyousness  or  depression. 
There  also,  according  to  the  times  and  seasons,  is 
rain  or  fine  weather,  calm  or  storm.  There  also  the 
barometer  rises  and  falls.  All  this  individual  detail  we 
can  observe  in  the  life  of  society,  on  a  larger  and  more 
striking  scale.  Life  has  its  heights  and  its  depths,  its 
moments  of  buoyancy  and  of  depression.  All  these 
moods  manifest  themselves  in  the  heart  or  on  the  face 
by  joy  or  sadness. 

•  * 


ENJOYMENT:  JOYOUSNESS. 


229 


There  is  a  sadness  which  comes  from  a  hard  life, 
whether  it  be  material  or  spiritual.  It  corresponds  in 
man  with  that  bleached  colour  which  in  plants  tells  of 
their  lack  of  sunshine.  This  sadness  is  in  the  highest  de- 
gree sympathetic  to  us.  It  is  often  salutary.  But  there 
is  another  which  we  must  fight  to  the  death,  —  it  is  the 
sadness  of  those  who  are  tired  of  life ;  and  still  another 
which  we  must  remedy  by  amending  our  ways,  since  it 
comes  from  bad  living  or  bad  thinking. 

Away  with  these  persons  who  are  tired  of  life !  They 
are  but  the  spoiled  children  of  existence.  They  barely 
put  its  cup  to  their  lips ;  they  but  taste  its  bread,  or  even 
throw  it  away,  and  deem  those  who  eat  it  with  good 
appetite  clowns.  There  are  few  indeed  of  them  among 
ragpickers,  miners,  labourers,  sailors,  investigators,  or 
workers,  of  every  kind,  who  are  exposed  to  wind  and 
rain.  They  are  recruited  from  those  who  sit  over  the 
fire  and  eat,  and  only  work  a  little  in  the  intervals  between 
their  meals.  Their  fatigue  comes  from  dancing  long 
at  a  ball,  playing  late  at  a  club,  or  from  killing  time  by 
reading  novels.  To  recover  from  such  exertions,  they 
sleep  the  whole  morning  through.  They  are  like  night- 
birds  ;  daylight  hurts  their  eyes.  By  day  they  are  sim- 
ply washed-out  rags.  They  want  to  be  seen  only  in  a 
blaze  of  gas  or  electric  light.  These  precious  pessi- 
mists, as  they  go  through  life,  are  bored  mildly  at  every- 
thing. But  they  do  not  forsake  this  wretched  and 
insipid  existence.  They  have  a  mission  which  forbids 
it,  —  that  of  making  others  feel  as  they  do.  Those  of 
them  who  are  writers  have  raised  this  mission  to  the 
height  of  a  priesthood.    They  set  themselves  to  ex- 


11 


230 


YOUTH. 


trading  the  quintessence  of  their  gloomy  thoughts  and 
their  heart-breaking  impressions,  and  seal  them  up  in 
bottles  for  the  use  of  the  public.  Youth  sometimes 
tries  their  wares.  But  whether  distaste  for  life  be  drawn 
from  the  contagion  of  another's  evil  or  from  our  own 
heart,  we  can  boldly  qualify  it  as  a  harmful  germ,  which 
thrives  in  an  artificial  and  abnormal  life.  We  must  de- 
clare war  without  mercy  against  it.  A  distaste  for  life 
is  an  insurrection  against  the  whole  universe,  for  its 
mission  is  to  produce  life.  Down  with  the  pessimists ! 
Whether  you  be  sarcastic  or  tragic,  life  denounces  and 
contradicts  you,  ye  workers  of  nothingness,  on  whose 
lips  smiles  disgust,  as  the  will-o'-the-wisp  over  decaying 
marshes. 


*  * 


Another  kind  of  sadness  is  that  which  comes  from 
evil  thoughts.  It  is  the  cry  of  alarm  which  nature, 
abused  within  us,  gives  to  our  reason.  It  is  absurd  that 
retlecting  on  our  life  should  make  us  despair  of  it.  The 
whole  philosophy  of  pessimism  or  of  despondency, 
every  religion  which  destroys  joyousness,  is  a  wrong.  Its 
fruit  condemns  it.  If  pessimism  were  true,  the  flowers 
would  cease  to  blow,  the  stars  would  go  out,  the  springs 
of  life  would  dry  up.  While  the  universe  exists,  there 
is  no  reason  to  despair  of  human  life.  We  must  there- 
fore distrust  opinions  which  destroy  joyousness.  Half 
truths  may  be  depressing ;  the  whole  truth  never. 


The  melancholy  which  comes  from  an  evil  life  tells 
its  monotonous  and  lamentable  story  on  pale  drawn 


enjoyment:  joyousness. 


231 


faces.  You  are  wretched  because  you  have  not  re- 
spected the  sources  of  life.  A  parasite  is  preying  on 
you,  vice  is  thriving  on  the  very  roots  of  your  existence ; 
and  as  it  prospers,  you  fail.  Wherever  this  depression 
exists,  it  shows  a  hidden  evil.  There  is  some  lack  or 
something  wrong  in  the  depths  of  your  being.  Your 
life,  misunderstood,  stained,  and  disordered,  bleeds  from 
a  thousand  wounds,  and  joy  can  no  longer  exist. 

Joyousness  takes  flight,  once  again,  from  those  rigid 
and  conventional  spheres  where  life  and  its  actions  are 
as  straightly  lined  as  a  sheet  of  music.  Abandoning 
the  field  to  the  followers  of  that  terrible  god  ennui,  it 
opens  its  wings  and  flies  away.  Like  the  flowers  of 
the  forest  and  the  mountains,  it  loves  free  air,  inde- 
pendence, and  to  rough  it  a  little.  Let  us  speak  here, 
in  passing,  of  the  injury  which  luxurious  and  affected 
tastes  have  done  to  family  pleasures  and  consequently 
to  youth.  Sociability  is  on  sufferance.  Instead  of 
simple  and  cordial  receptions,  oft  repeated,  we  give, 
from  time  to  time,  costly  entertainments,  where  ambi- 
tion  and  a  puerile  desire  to  outdo  others  destroy  all 
pleasure  in  advance.  Who  suffers  most  from  this.? 
Youth,  for  it  must  find  other  amusement. 


I  note,  as  one  of  the  worst  destroyers  of  joyousness, 
the  spirit  of  scoflTing.  There  is  a  laugh  which  withers 
whatever  it  touches,  and  dries  up  all  feeling  forever.  It 
delights  in  ridiculing  holy  and  venerable  things.  Victor 
Hugo  has  said,  with  rare  psychological  penetration,  that 
the  dullest  minds  were  scoffers.    To  scoff  is  not  to 


232 


YOUTH. 


laugh.  On  the  contrary,  scoffing  kills  laughter.  We 
must  have  retained  a  certain  freshness  of  impressions  to 
be  frankly  amused.  Let  us  not  sacrifice  the  good  old 
laugh  of  our  France,  with  its  jovial  and  good-natured 
irony  and  its  natural  gayety,  to  that  questionable  and 
profane  spirit  which  turns  to  jest  the  saddest  task,  and 
scents  evil  from  afar. 


* 
*  * 


To  sum  up:  To  preserve  the  capacity  for  happi- 
ness we  must  go  back  to  work  and  to  simplicity,  we 
must  respect  life  and  observe  its  laws.  What  do  I 
say  ?     We  must  love  life. 

It  seems  superfluous  to  preach  this  love  to  youth ; 
but  it  is  not  so.  If  there  is  anything  which  does  not 
come  of  itself,  it  is  this.  To  rise  to  this  great  love,  and 
to  open  our  heart  until  it  embraces  every  part  of  it,  is 
not  the  work  of  a  day.  One  of  the  lowest  concep- 
tions of  joy  is  that  which  makes  it  the  appanage  of 
youth  alone,  and  considers  all  the  rest  of  existence  as 
an  empty  shell  whose  nut  has  been  eaten.  There  is 
a  joy  of  youth,  no  doubt,  inseparable  from  the  fresh- 
ness of  its  impressions,  and  which  can  be  lost  by  the 
way,  by  slow  misshaping  of  character,  by  its  faults 
or  its  sufferings.  In  this  sense  we  can  say  of  young 
people  as  we  do  of  children :  Leave  them  to  their 
happiness ;  care  will  come  only  too  soon,  —  we  are 
young  but  once.  But  this  is  not  facing  the  truth. 
There  are  lives  which  begin  in  sadness  and  end  in  joy. 
Such  a  life  is  never  more  active  nor  younger  than 
toward  the  forties,  when  it  has  overcome  a  series  of 
material  and  mental  difficulties.     I  have  no  hesitation 


ENJOYMENT:  JOYOUSNESS. 


233 


in  saying  that  the  joyousness  then  felt  is  more  sub- 
stantial than  at  twenty.  Still  more,  there  are  certain 
old  persons  —  admirable,  but  rare,  1  admit,  though  still 
to  be  found  —  in  whom  I  have  met  joyousness  in  its 
purest  form.  I  mean  that  serenity  born  of  suffering  ac- 
cepted and  conquered,  of  loved  work,  of  long  devotion 
to  duty,  and  of  an  ever-deepening  conviction  of  the  aim 
of  life  and  its  worth.  And  when  I  teach  youth  to  love 
life,  I  point  out  these  old  persons  and  those  who  re- 
semble them,  as  professors  in  this  high  learning.  I 
consider  that  to  know  pure  light-heartedness  on  the 
threshold  of  life  is  a  great  happiness.  We  must  ad- 
mire it  among  those  who  have  won  it  in  hard  fight ; 
we  must  consider  it  an  inestimable  good,  and  aspire 
some  day  to  share  it. 

Besides,  the  very  joyousness  of  youth,  that  happy 
disposition  which  at  times  makes  us  think  everything 
good  and  beautiful,  has  its  conditions,  —  to  be  enjoyed 
it  must  be  deserved.  Joyousness  is  a  tres  grande 
dame ;  she  does  not  answer  the  invitation  of  the  first 
comer.  Many  a  company  strives  in  vain,  shouts,  and 
spends  money  to  bring  her ;  she  will  not  come  ;  theirs 
are  but  empty  sounds,  their  laugh  rings  false. 

Nothing  is  more  beautiful  than  joy.  It  is  a  divine 
spark,  a  daughter  of  the  skies.  It  lifts  the  heart;  it 
illumines  the  thought.  It  makes  us  see,  in  a  single 
brilliant  flash,  secrets  which  on  ordinary  days  our 
cloudy  thoughts  seek  for  in  vain.  It  does  away  with 
distance,  it  brings  men  together,  it  inclines  us  to  pity, 
it  makes  us  stronger  and  better.  It  is  so  good  and*  of 
such  value  that  we  must  sacrifice,  without  a  moment's 


234 


YOUTH. 


SOLIDARITY:  THE  FAMILY. 


235 


M 


Ij 


I 


hesitation,  all  that  lessens  it,  and  seek  for  all  that  in- 

creases  it. 

Joy  has  its  high'  days.  At  the  time  when  Nature 
awakes,  when  all  is  growing,  when  the  labourer  is 
sowing  the  seed,  have  you  ever  seen  the  lark  rise 
from  the  furrow,  singing  as  he  soars  toward  the  sun, 
hymning  the  soul  of  the  fields,  the  blossoming  flowers, 
labour,  and  love  ?  On  certain  days  when  hands  clasp 
of  themselves,  when  hearts  beat  in  unison,  joy  is  like 
this  lark.  It  rises,  and  in  its  song  which  sums  all  life, 
it  seems  to  say  to  it :  *M  love  thee  in  thy  morning  and 
in  thy  evening,  in  tears  and  in  laughter,  in  thy  manly 
struggle,  and  in  thy  peaceful  repose.  I  love  thee  under 
every  sky,  in  every  age,  in  all  those  closed  eyes  which 
rest  beneath  the  earth ;  and  whatever  be  my  lot,  1  am 
happy  to  live,  and  I  trust  myself  thankfully  to  that 
merciful  will  through  whom  we  are,  and  which  enwraps 


us  ever. 


i» 


CHAPTER  VI. 

SOLIDARITY. 

LJUMAN  solidarity  presents  us  in  the  family  a  se- 
n  ries  of  condensed  object-lessons.  The  family  has 
sometimes  been  considered  a  narrow  framework  which 
must  be  broken,  that  we  may  substitute  for  its  close 
but  restricted  bonds  the  greater  bond  of  social  solidar- 
ity. This  would  be  to  destroy  solidarity  in  its  very 
germ. 

We  must  have  experienced  the  family  sentiment  be- 
fore we  can  transport  it  on  a  larger  scale  to  the  city,  to 
the  national  family,  to  the  great  family  of  mankind. 
The  family  is  a  school  so  happily  contrived  that  we 
there  learn  things  almost  spontaneously.  1  do  not  know 
if  we  acquire  most  through  the  intelligence,  the  feel- 
ings, or  the  affections ;  but  man  is  always  influenced  on 
every  side,  whether  in  the  direction  of  his  weakness  or 
of  his  strength.  He  is  assimilated,  united,  and  incorpo- 
rated, first  by  heredity,  next  by  the  affections,  and  last 
by  reflection  and  appreciation.  We  realize  so  thor- 
oughly in  the  glow  of  family  life  that  it  existed  be- 
fore us,  encircles  us  in  the  present,  and  will  live  after 
us.  It  is  not  the  child  alone  that  feels  itself  thus  en- 
wrapped and  protected,  —  it  is  its  elders,  the  strong,  the 


i 


236  YOUTH. 

aged.  A  greater  hand  than  that  of  man  unceasingly  di- 
rects the  family.  Things  human  and  divine  so  inter- 
mingle there  that  they  can  hardly  be  distinguished.  If 
there  be  a  sanctuary  not  made  with  hands,  it  is  indeed 
the  family.  God  there  shows  himself  kind  and  paternal ; 
he  manifests  himself  always  and  in  all  things.  The 
father  stands  in  His  place  to  the  child,  the  child  recalls 
Him  to  the  father.  The  traits  of  our  ancestors,  revived 
in  their  posterity,  give  us  a  presentiment  of  a  myste- 
rious survival.  Can  you  be  realists,  materialists,  utili- 
tarians in  the  family  ?  You  try  to  be,  I  well  know  ; 
but  you  always  stop  at  a  certain  point.  On  a  sudden, 
at  a  moment  when  you  least  expect  it,  your  heart 
tightens,  and  the  tears  come  to  your  eyes.  You  say 
then,  you  positivists,  "  This  is  ridiculous ; "  and  you  say 
truly,  for  it  is  folly  which  has  overtaken  and  possessed 
you,  but  a  holy  folly.  A  ray  of  kindness  or  tenderness, 
a  ray  of  grief  or  pity,  has  revealed  to  you  a  world  you 
did  not  know.  Ah !  you  speak  of  suppressing  the 
family,  of  renouncing  its  ties,  —  some  of  you  for  the 
greater  glory  of  God,  some  of  you  for  the  greater 
good  of  society.  But  if  for  our  sins  the  darkness  of 
creation  could  fall  again  upon  humanity ;  if  God  could 
disappear  from  our  horizon;  if  all  tradition,  all  the 
Bible,  all  that  which  man  has  graven  in  stone,  could  be 
lost  and  forgotten ;  if  disorder  and  anarchy  could  throw 
back  society  into  chaos,  — some  day,  two  souls  that 
loved  would  find  the  germ  of  a  new  world  beside  the 
cradle  of  a  child.  Touch  not  the  family.  And  to  young 
men  1  say,  —  do  not  relax  family  ties. 


SOLIDARITY:  THE  FAMILY. 


237 


Fathers  and  mothers,  whatever  may  be  your  position 
and  your  duties  in  the  world,  keep  the  better  part  of 
yourselves  for  the  family.  Be  sure  that  in  neglecting 
it  you  neglect  an  essential,  and  that  the  services  you 
render  elsewhere  are  neutralized  by  the  injury  you  do  at 
home.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  we  are  bound  to  the 
family  by  the  tender  ties  of  joy  and  sorrow.  Make  the 
family  pleasant  for  the  children.  Make  the  nest  warm, 
but  be  at  the  same  time  judicious.  Be  good  yet  firm, 
loved  yet  respected.  Be  neither  violent  nor  foolishly 
indulgent.  Have  none  of  that  tyrannical  love  which 
stifles  individuality  and  kills  the  will.  May  the  family 
and  the  hearth  never  lose  their  power  of  attraction 
and  development !  Keep  the  confidence  of  your  sons 
as  long  as  possible.  Make  them  feel  the  need  and 
pleasure  of  confiding  in  you  by  the  tact  with  which 
you  hear  them. 


How  we  must  pity  those  who  have  no  family,  or 
toward  whom  the  family  has  not  done  its  duty !  But 
let  us  not  lift  that  veil ;  we  should  have  before  our  eyes 
too  hopeless  a  world.  ^ 

Young  men,  do  not  relax  family  ties.  Be  your 
fathers'  and  your  mothers'  little  children,  even  when 
you  are  yourselves  fathers.  It  is  so  good  to  feel  oneself 
a  child ;  and  the  more  one  grows,  and  the  older  one  gets, 
the  more  good  it  does  one.  The  strongest  men  are 
those  who  have  best  loved  their  mothers.  When  we  love 
and  respect  her  who  brought  us  into  the  world,  we  are 
very  near  respect  for  all  women.  And  when  we  respect 
our  father's  moral  authority,  happy  in  being  able  to  show 


238 


YOUTH. 


our  filial  feeling,  we  have  a  good  basis  for  respecting  all 
authority.  Honour  thy  father  and  thy  mother.  This 
twofold  law  of  respect  —  for  woman  in  her  mother- 
hood and  for  man  in  his  moral  pre-eminence  —  must 
be  considered  as  an  indispensable  foundation  of  human 
solidarity  and  of  a  good  and  just  life.  Let  us  strengthen 
our  souls  by  contact  with  these  elementary  principles, 
these  simple  and  holy  truths,  which  become  more  wide- 
reaching  the  farther  from  childhood  we  see  them,  and 
which,  even  though  our  hair  be  white,  we  must  hear  on 
bended  knee  and  with  joined  hands,  as  little  children. 

Will  you,  young  reader,  be  of  those  who  rate  rever- 
ence as  a  virtue  of  childhood  to  which  it  is  proper  to 
say  adieu  when  your  beard  begins  to  grow  ?  Let  me 
call  your  attention  to  this :  The  law  which  dominates  all 
history  has  evolved  from  absolutely  despotic  power, 
based  on  fear,  the  authority  of  laws  based  on  respect. 
Each  of  us  goes  through  the  different  stages  of  this 
evolution.  As  children  we  obey  at  once  through  fear ; 
when  grown,  we  practise  the  voluntary  obedience  that 
comes  from  respect.  Let  us  establish  this  kind  of  obe- 
dience in  the  family,  that  we  may  teach  it  to  those 
about  us.  It  is  this  willing  obedience  that  our  age  and 
our  democratic  land  most  need.  In  acting  as  a  good 
son,  you  cannot  tell  how  far  you  have  already  acted  as 
a  good  citizen.  Emancipation  consists  in  practising 
respect  from  conviction  and  with"  premeditation.  With- 
out respect  no  man  is  free.  Liberty  is  self-government, 
according  to  the  inner  law. 

We  must  check  in  ourselves,  with  all  our  might,  the 
puerile  tendency  to  criticise  instinctively,  to  scoff,  to 


I 


€^* 


SOLIDARITY :  FRIENDSHIP. 


239 


treat  things  cavalierly.  It  is  the  trick  of  a  gamin.  To 
become  a  man  is  to  discover  daily  in  men  and  things 
more  reasons  for  taking  them  seriously.  The  great 
question  of  tradition  and  of  to-day  —  that  is,  the  ques- 
tion of  despotism  and  liberty,  which  makes  so  much 
noise  in  the  world  —  should  be  solved  between  fa- 
thers and  sons.  Between  fathers  and  children  should 
be  settled  also  that  great  business  of  the  rights  of  the 
individual  as  against  the  rights  of  the  community,  so 
that  neither  be  wronged.  No  university,  no  book,  will 
teach  you  all  this  as  will  the  family.  I  say  to  you  that 
it  is  the  world  in  miniature.  It  is  the  humblest  and  the 
greatest  school  that  exists.  One  learns  there  with  ease 
a  host  of  difficult  things.  In  applying  yourself  to  solve 
with  patience,  reverence,  and  fraternity  the  difficulties 
of  the  family,  you  are  preparing  yourself  for  the  work 
you  are  to  perform  in  society,  where  you  will  meet  the 
same  difficulties  on  a  larger  scale. 


2.  iFrienU0||ip. 

The  friendship  of  youth!  As  the  ancients  used  to 
offer  a  lock  of  hair  upon  the  altars  of  the  gods,  so 
would  I  offer  in  its  homage  the  best  I  have.  Even 
when  those  we  once  loved  have  long  slept  beneath  the 
sod,  they  live  for  us  in  the  memories  of  a  vanished 
past,  and  we  catch  ourselves  sometimes  in  the  silence 
of  solitudes  conversing  with  them  familiarly,  telling 
them  the  sorrow  and  joy  we  have  met  along  the  road 
of  life,  since  the  day  when  we  laid  them  in  the  tomb 
beside  it. 


I 


240 


YOUTH. 


i 


There  are  seasons  for  friendship  in  individual  life, 
just  as  there  are  in  that  of  society.  Certain  times  of 
life  have  a  sociability  wholly  juvenile  ;  we  then  make 
friends  easily.  Others  have  the  prudence  and  the  re- 
serve of  misanthropic  old  men.  When  material  inter- 
ests are  in  the  ascendant,  when  the  struggle  for  existence 
is  accentuated,  and  when  the  nerves  are  tense  and  over- 
strained, association  with  our  kind  becomes  painful. 
Friction  arises ;  there  is  a  conflict  of  desires,  a  clashing 
of  ambitions.  We  love  then  to  shelter  our  irritability 
behind  a  wall  of  silence,  as  molluscs  shut  themselves 
up  in  their  shells.  But  these  varying  periods  concern 
us  little.  The  time  of  good  and  warm  friendships  for 
each  of  us  is  the  time  of  youth.  I  always  sincerely  pity 
a  young  man  who  has  no  friend,  and  if  he  is  himself 
the  chief  cause  of  his  isolation,  I  remonstrate  seriously 
with  him.  We  must  have  comrades,  and  a  certain  num- 
ber of  them,  to  lead  a  life  in  common,  to  rub  off  our 
comers  against  theirs,  as  we  polish  flints  by  shaking 
them  together  in  a  bag.  We  must  have  comrades  again 
to  pursue  the  same  aims,  to  develop  esprit  de  corps  and 
solidarity,  to  sing  and  laugh  with  us  ;  but  among  this 
troop  of  good  companions  it  is  essential  that  we  should 
cultivate  relations  more  intimate  still,  that  we  should 
have  friends.  Our  intellectual  development  demands 
it.  To  chat,  converse,  talk  together,  to  utter  in  the 
most  absolute  intimacy  our  ideas  on  all  subjects,  in  inter- 
minable and  delightful  discussions,  whether  strolling 
side  by  side  or  at  night  by  the  fireside,  —  what  an  ad- 
vantage is  this  to  a  growing  intelligence !  This  advan- 
tage is  more  apparent  still  in  epochs  when,  as  to-day, 


SOLIDARITY  :  FRIENDSHIP. 


241 


orientation  is  long  and  difficult.  To  whom  shall  we  tell 
all  our  thoughts?  Who  better  than  a  friend  of  our 
own  age,  exposed  to  like  difficulties,  can  understand  us, 
hear  our  questions,  and  answer  our  objections?  If  I 
were  offered  in  exchange  the  most  delightful  of  intel- 
lectual enjoyments,  I  should  not  hesitate  an  instant  to 
refuse  them  for  that  friendly  discussion  of  all  sorts  of 
things  where  two  fresh  minds,  curious  as  to  everything, 
give  themselves  up  to  the  delights  of  discovery,  while 
tasting  those  of  affection.  There  is  perhaps  only  one 
satisfaction  of  this  kind  more  rare  and  more  precious, 
and  that  is  to  meet  again,  after  long  years  of  sepa- 
ration, a  friend  of  our  youth,  and  to  live  over  with  him 
for  an  hour  of  mingled  pleasure  and  sadness  those  good 
times  of  old,  exclaiming  again  and  again :  "  Do  you 
remember  ?  do  you  remember  ? " 

The  friendships  of  youth  have  another  advantage  in 
that  they  influence  the  feelings,  the  character,  and  the 
conduct.  Good  friendships  supply  many  things  that 
youth  lacks ;  they  put  to  flight  morbid  fancies,  and  aid 
it  to  walk  steadily  along  paths  where  it  is  apt  to  stum- 
ble. This  is  especially  the  case  when  we  reach  that 
perfect  frankness  which  keeps  back  nothing.  There  are 
days  when  no  one  but  a  friend  can  be  of  use.  When 
we  no  longer  listen  to  him,  our  moral  deafness,  for  the 
moment  at  least,  is  complete.  We  must,  then,  cultivate 
friendship,  if  only  as  a  means  of  moral  perfection  and 
education,  and  of  exchanging  help  in  times  of  trouble. 
The  cup  of  cold  water  of  tenderness  and  good  will 
which  our  friend  offers  us  to-day  to  help  us  bear  and 
overcome  our  trials,  he  may  perhaps  himself  need  to- 

i6 


242 


YOUTH. 


morrow  when  we  shall  offer  it  to  him  with  a  like 
affection. 


♦  * 


In  these  days  of  duplicity  and  hypocrisy  friendship 
should  become  more  and  more  a  bond  of  loyalty  and 
truth.  Who  should  talk  to  us  so  freely  as  a  friend  ? 
He  is  a  brother  of  our  own  choosing,  he  is  nearer  to 
us  than  our  own  family.  When  truth  shows  itself 
in  his  face  and  speaks  through  his  voice,  we  cannot 
say  that  "it  assumes  a  countenance  too  imperiously 
magisterial."  ^ 

Another  great  resource  of  friendship  is  that  it  strength- 
ens us  for  those  sharp  and  formidable  struggles  which 
youth  is  called  to  sustain,  for  causes  which  it  has  nearest 
at  heart,  and  which  are  often  unpopular  in  the  commu- 
nity. To  throw  off  routine  and  bondage,  to  keep  one- 
self from  giving  way  a  thousand  times  in  those  adverse 
encounters  which  discourage  the  best  of  us,  to  avoid 
distrusting  oneself  after  repeated  opposition,  we  must 
renew,  from  time  to  time,  our  stock  of  courage  and 
faith  in  the  bosom  of  friendship. 


*  * 


I  will  add  but  a  word.  It  seems  to  me  not  only  pos- 
sible but  desirable,  that  youth  should  cultivate,  outside 
of  friendships  with  those  of  like  age,  close  and  affec- 
tionate relations  with  those  of  riper  age,  or  with  elderly 
persons  who  have  retained  interest  in  those  who  are 
beginning  life.    A  young  man,  even  he  who  lacks  no 

^  Montaigne. 


\\ 


SOLIDARITY  :   FRIENDSHIP. 


243 


advantage  of  position,  is  often  happy  to  have  some  one 
above  him  whom  he  may  love  and  admire.  It  is  not 
a  question  of  swearing  by  any  one  in  verba  magistri, 
but  of  attaching  oneself  to  some  one,  of  looking  up  to 
some  one.  As  a  general  rule,  the  best-made  mmds, 
those  most  capable  of  independence,  at  a  certain  age 
seek  a  master,  and  ask  nothing  better  than  to  be 
disciples. 

I  do  not  admit  that  serious,  busy,  and  distinguished 
men  have  no  time  to  devote  to  youth  ;  that  they  can- 
not instruct  them,  not  only  as  a  class,  but  as  individu- 
als, by  advising  and  by  learning  to  know  and  to  be 
useful  to  them.  Write  fewer  books,  good  sirs,  and 
throw  so  many  more  living  words  of  advice  into  the 
grateful  furrows  of  young  minds.  This  is  in  the  high- 
est degree  for  the  interests  of  man  and  of  our  country. 
How  pleased  I  am  to  see  these  ideas  so  long  forgotten 
begin  to  show  themselves  anew  on  all  sides !  Let  us  be 
brothers !  It  is  the  great  motto  of  universal  solidarity. 
Let  the  France  of  to-day  and  of  yesterday  fraternize 
with  the  France  of  to-morrow. 

Verily,  youth  is  good ;  it  contents  itself  with  so  little, 
it  is  so  thankful  for  what  is  done  for  it,  that  it  is  always 
a  pleasure  and  a  profit  to  serve  it.  And  I  was  near  for- 
getting the  best  thing  about  it,  —  we  become  young  in 
its  company.  All  the  elixirs  in  the  world  cannot  com- 
pare with  it,  for  those  who  dread  old  age. 


* 


244  YOUTH. 

3.  lobe* 

Flambeau  sublime  et  pur  mais  qui  tremble  souvent, 
Pour  te  bien  abriter  de  la  pluie  et  du  vent, 
Et  faire  rayonner  ta  clart^  souvraine, 

Heureux  qui  peut  passer  sans  s'interrompre  un  jour 
De  Tamour  de  sa  mere  \  ramitie'  sereine 
Et  de  Tamiti^  sainte  a  son  premier  amour  !  * 

A.  DORCHAIN. 

A  good  and  sympathetic  physician  —  one  of  those 
whom  familiarity  with  the  dead  has  not  taught  con- 
tempt for  humanity,  but  who,  on  the  contrary,  has 
seen  beyond  the  little  which  the  intelligence  of  man  can 
discover  in  our  poor  remains  the  holiness  of  life  —  com- 
plains that  human  life  is  neglected  at  its  beginning. 
We  are  better  informed,  he  says,  as  to  how  to  raise 
young  domestic  animals  than  to  care  for  children.  This 
doctor's  remark  has  often  come  to  my  mind  a  propos 
of  love.  If  there  is  a  matter  on  which  good  advice  is 
necessary  at  the  beginning  of  life,  it  is  this.  If  there  is 
a  matter  on  which  it  is  lacking,  it  is  this.  Every  person 
finds  the  subject  a  delicate  one.  Teachers  think  that 
parents  alone  are  competent  to  treat  it ;  parents  refer  it 
to  teachers.  Thus,  most  of  the  time,  both  neglect  it. 
Youth  reaches  its  most  critical  age  without  a  compass 

>  "  Flambeau  sublime  and  pure,  yet  often  wavering, 
Happy  is  he  who  without  interruption  — 
That  he  may  shelter  thee  from  rain  and  wind 
And  make  thy  sovereig:n  light  irradiate  — 
Passes  from  mother  love  to  serene  friendship, 
From  holy  friendship  to  his  own  first  love.'* 


SOLIDARITY:  LOVE. 


245 


and  without  direction.  I  mistake.  The  instruction  that 
is  neglected  by  parents  and  teachers  is  always  supplied 
from  outside  sources.  It  is  impossible  that  children's 
curiosity  should  not  some  day  or  other  be  satisfied.  A 
bad  companion,  one  of  those  compositions  which  are 
getting  to  be  so  difficult  to  avoid,  initiates  the  being 
who  is  still  pure  into  what  it  is  agreed  to  call  the  secret 
of  life.  From  that  moment  a  dreadful  work  goes  on  in 
the  imagination  of  this  novice.  Confidence  in  parents 
and  masters  is  rudely  shaken.  For  their  ascendancy  is 
substituted  that  of  a  teacher  without  authority ;  some- 
thing new  and  perilous  has  entered  his  life,  and  it  will 
be  difficult  indeed  to  eliminate  it. 

We  touch  here  on  the  first  serious  and  melancholy 
point  in  this  complex  question  of  love.  Though  we 
are  writing  for  adult  youth,  we  must  go  back  of  it. 
Love  in  its  numerous  ramifications  really  covers  all  our 
life,  and  what  the  innocent  child  has  heard  on  the  out- 
skirts of  a  world  which  is  still  closed  to  him  deter- 
mines very  often  his  conduct  later  on.  I  cannot,  then, 
but  deplore  that  we  are  informed  by  preference  on  this 
intimate  and  sacred  subject  by  irreverent  strangers,  and 
that  an  hour  of  brutal  indiscretion,  which  distresses  us 
long,  perhaps  forever,  fills  for  us  an  office  to  which 
there  cannot  be  brought  too  much  precaution,  too  much 
maternal  wisdom,  on  the  part  of  those  who  love  us 
best. 


* 


ill 


I  will,  however,  content  myself  with  having  thus 
touched  on  a  subject  which  concerns  the  age  imme- 


I,  I' 


246 


YOUTH. 


SOLIDARITY:  LOVE. 


247 


diately  preceding  adolescence,  and  without  further  delay 
will  return  to  my  proper  field. 

How  should  a  young  man  who  is  not  married  and, 
we  will  suppose,  not  engaged,  conduct  himself  as  re- 
gards love? 

The  prime  necessity  here  is  to  possess  respect  for  life, 
for  its  pre-eminence,  its  worth,  its  sacredness,  and, 
consequently,  for  the  obligations  imposed  on  us  by  our 
position  as  its  heirs.  The  fundamental  sentiment  which 
should  run  through  all  the  acts  and  behaviour  of  a 
young  man  is  that  of  his  virile  dignity,  if  he  has  this 
sentiment,  life  will  seem  to  him  a  deposit,  and  not  an 
individual  possession,  and  he  will  have  constantly  within 
him  a  powerful  ally,  very  noble  and  very  efficacious, 
in  aiding  him  to  keep  and  guide  himself. 

The  sentiment  of  virile  dignity  and  self-respect  can, 
without  doubt,  be  strengthened  or  thwarted  by  second- 
ary means.  At  the  age  when  the  passions  awake  and 
when  their  very  novelty,  their  disturbing  and  unfore- 
seen character,  constitute  a  peril,  it  is  as  possible  to 
lessen  this  peril  as  to  increase  it.  The  influence  of 
regimen,  of  food,  and  of  surroundings  is  at  the  very 
least  as  great  here,  if  not  greater,  than  that  of  nature. 
Excessive  mental  labour,  a  sedentary  life,  pernicious 
reading,  'idleness,  can  transform  into  a  tormenting  and 
persistent  desire  that  which  without  it  would  have  been 
easily  mastered.  On  the  other  hand,  a  healthful  regi- 
men, energetic  habits,  amusements,  and  physical  fatigue 
are  diversions  so  useful  that,  thanks  to  them,  the  most 
critical  years  pass  by  unnoticed.  All  this  is  of  the  last 
importance.    One  must  live  normally  to  act  normally 


Destroy  the  equilibrium  of  one's  life,  and  you  at  once 
disturb  that  of  one's  actions.  The  causes  of  individual 
and  social  misconduct,  for  the  most  part,  are  the  results 
of  a  series  of  hygienic  lapses. 

Yet  the  fundamental  point  is  always  the  conception 
we  form  of  our  life,  our  dignity,  and,  consequently,  of 
our  aim.    This  is  why  self-respect  is  the  great  thing  in 
youth.    A  grand  ideal,  a  lofty  conception  of  life  in  its 
entirety,  and  of  the  work  which  each  of  us  is  called  to 
do,  is  the  best  councillor  in  matters  of  love.     For,  first 
of  all,  it  preserves  us  from  the  sophisms  and  cynical 
precepts  with  which  persons  of  stunted  feelings  have 
sown  this  whole  subject.     We  need  not  say  that  if 
youth  meets  anywhere  on  its  road  foolish  and  criminal 
maxims,  it  is  here.    In  the  name  of  that  which  they 
call  a  physical  necessity,  they  urge  it  not  to  injure  it- 
self, but  to  yield  to  its  desires.    To  act  thus  is  right ;  to 
act  otherwise  is  foolish,  and  even  wicked.     "  In  a  land 
where  the  virginity  of  a  lad  of  twenty  is  the  subject  of 
traditional  and  almost  national  pleasantry,"  ^  it  is  good 
to  have  within  one  a  counter  weight  to  such  enormities. 
It  is  true  that  a  simple  glance  at  our  youth  in  general  is 
enough  to  make  us  understand  that  its  need,  if  it  have 
any,  is  to  keep  and  husband  its  strength. 

Their  would-be  need,  which  they  talk  so  loudly 
about,  exists,  far  more  than  elsewhere,  in  imagina- 
tions  over-stimulated  by  bad  reading,  sensual  talk,  and 
bad  examples.  But  even  let  us  admit  this  need  as 
a  real  one.  It  is  none  the  less  necessary  that  our  whole 
nature,  its  noble  instincts  and  its  higher  needs,  be  re- 

1  Jules  Lemattre. 


248 


YOUTH. 


I  ! 


spected.  Acts  which  lessen  our  esteem  for  ourselves 
and  for  others,  which  detract  from  our  dignity,  are  bad, 
even  though  they  are  provoked  by  a  perfectly  legitimate 
desire.  How  many  things  there  are,  in  themselves 
harmless,  which  we  must  deny  ourselves,  because  their 
acquisition  costs  too  dear.  On  a  host  of  occasions 
when  many  duties  are  pressing  on  us  at  the  same  time, 
it  would  be  disgraceful  to  think  of  rest,  hunger,  or 
thirst,  though  the  enjoyment  of  all  these  is  among  the 
incontestable  rights  of  man.  He  who  has  an  ideal  of 
action  and  principles  of  conduct  is  distinguished  from 
him  who  has  none,  by  the  position  he  accords  in  his 
life  to  the  different  needs  of  his  being,  and  by  the  clair- 
voyance and  the  firmness  with  which  he  knows  how 
to  subordinate  some  to  others.  This  is  why  I  lay  down 
the  principle  that  the  prime  necessity  in  love  is  to 
have  an  ideal,  because  this  ideal  helps  us  to  govern  our- 
selves. For  him  who  appreciates  his  life,  his  dignity, 
and  that  of  others,  to  yield  to  his  passions  is,  under  cer- 
tain conditions,  to  betray  what  is  most  noble  in  him  to 
gratify  a  simple  desire.  Consequently,  while  recog- 
nizing that  this  desire  is  a  legitimate  one  in  itself,  he 
prefers  to  sacrifice  it;  and  thus  the  first  homage  he 
renders  to  his  nature  and  to  himself  is  that  of  chastity. 

Chastity  has  a  host  of  enemies.  I  do  not  include 
cynics  and  scoffers.  With  them  we  have  nothing  to  do 
here,  for  all  our  arguments  are  based  on  that  whole 
conception  of  life  which  we  have  laid  down  in  this  book. 
But  it  is  well  to  answer  a  specious  and  even  serious 
objection  which  is  founded  on  the  danger  of  being  too 
wise.    These  enemies  are  quick  to  throw  at  your  head, 


SOLIDARITY:  LOVE. 


249 


I 


as  an  unanswerable  argument,  "  He  who  tries  to  play 
the  angel,  plays  the  fool."  There  is  certainly  truth  in 
this  old  adage,  and  it  is  not  for  me  to  contest  it.  But 
we  can  see  by  the  sequel  that  it  is  not  here  a  case  of 
playing  the  angel.  I  will  simply  observe  that  many 
play  the  fool  who  have  never  tried  to  play  the  angel. 
They  have  not  fallen  into  the  mud  because  they  tried  to 
fly  too  high,  but  because  they  began  too  low  down. 
The  best  way  to  become  the  slave  of  one's  desires  is  to 
obey,  not  master  them.  And  as  to  the  deformity  of 
character  which  can  result  from  monastic  chastity,  it  has 
its  counterpart  —  and,  indeed,  a  great  one,  alas !  —  in 
that  sad  decadence  of  so  many  persons  who  have  never 
had  any  other  rule  than  their  pleasure.  Even  on  this 
ground  1  am  sure  of  my  position.  If  there  were  only 
excess  of  laxity  on  one  hand  and  excess  of  restraint  on 
the  other,  I  should  choose  the  latter,  believing  that  I 
should  sacrifice  less  of  my  manhood. 

Nevertheless,  I  do  not  preach  monasticism  in  speak- 
ing of  chastity.  I  do  not  advise  you  to  despise  virility, 
but  to  respect  and  preserve  it.  We  have  so  far  exam- 
ined only  the  lesser— the  arid,  the  negative— side  of  this 
question.  Many  go  no  further.  Society  during  whole 
epochs  has  wrestled  with  it  without  finding  a  solution. 
Extremes  provoke  extremes.  Our  existing  society,  like 
many  which  have  preceded  it,  shows  the  working  of 
this  law.  As  regards  love,  it  is  at  the  same  time  lax 
and  prudish,  depraved  and  severely  virtuous.  All  this 
is  logical.  A  society  which  permits  license  in  youth  and 
counsels  it,  degrades  love.  The  temptation  to  consider 
it  questionable  or  inferior  becomes  natural.    The  cor- 


250 


YOUTH. 


i 


it 


ruption  of  some  has  as  a  counterpart  the  prudery  or 
the  asceticism  of  others ;  and  of  this  medley  of  tenden- 
cies hypocrisy  is  born.  Tartuffe  is  outwardly  an  as- 
cetic, inwardly  a  rake. 

Alas !  these  are  contradictions  which  we  pay  for  with 
the  disruption  of  society,  its  principles  and  its  institu- 
tions. We  are,  in  truth,  in  that  sensitive  state  when 
the  vibration  from  a  blow  is  far  reaching.  Sin  against 
love  at  its  base,  —  in  youth,  —  and  the  life  of  the  whole 
nation  is  torn,  and  suffers  immeasurably. 

I  sum  up,  then  :  the  rule  of  conduct  here  is  chastity. 
Every  infraction  is  a  sin.  Though  this  law  may  seem 
difficult  and  severe,  it  is  the  only  safe  one.  Morality 
without  it  is  but  rubbish.  It  is  hard  to  be  truthful  and 
honest ;  but  no  one  has  ever  deduced  therefrom  that  lies 
and  theft  are  allowable.  May  he  who  falls,  who  goes 
astray,  —  no  matter  how,  —  and  loses  respect  for  him- 
self and  for  love,  know  the  injury  he  has  done  himself. 
This,  in  painful  moral  situations,  is  his  best  hope  for 
salvation.  But  to  call  evil  good  because  evil  is  hard  to 
avoid  is  worse  than  to  act  wrongly,  for  it  is  to  warp 
one*s  conscience.  This  is  a  maxim  which  should  be 
promulgated  with  absolute  authority. 


SOLIDARITY:  LOVE. 


251 


# 


This  principle  once  laid  down,  we  must  consider  the 
life  of  those  young  men  who  try  to  practise  it.  We 
look  on  here  at  a  struggle  which  has  our  warm  sym- 
pathy. For  him  who  has  kept  the  exquisite  perception 
of  morality,  there  can  be  no  more  beautiful  spectacle. 
Sully  Prudhomme,  in  his  preface  to  the  poetry  of 
Monsieur  A.  Dorchain,  La  jeunesse  pensive ^  says  :  — 


"  In  reading  these  verses,  where  the  struggles  and 
griefs  of  our  twentieth  year  find  their  discreet  but  very 
sincere  expression,  more  than  one  will  feel  old  wounds 
open  in  his  soul.  We  cannot  look  on,  as  cold  specta- 
tors,  at  the  suffering  which  he  — the  young  man — 
undergoes.  We  lean  toward  him  from  the  bank  to 
offer  him  a  friendly  hand." 

This  struggle  is  more  or  less  violent  according  to 
natures  and  temperaments.  There  are  some  privileged 
beings  whom  a  certain  inborn  nobleness  preserves,  by 
giving  them  an  instinctive  repugnance  for  all  which  is 
low  and  trivial.  Evil  takes  no  hold  on  them.  We 
may  say  of  them,  — 

Le  moule  en  est  d'at'rain  si  Vespece  en  est  rare  ; 
Elle  sait  ce  qiie  vatit  son  marbre  de  Carrare, 
Et  que  les  eaux  du  del  ne  Pentament  jamaisA 

A.  DE  MUSSET. 

But  Others,  especially  among  the  best  of  youth,  are  at 
a  disadvantage  from  their  sensibility,  their  power  of 
imagination,  their  very  qualities. 

Enfant,  dans  la  lutte  eterneUe 
Tu  crois  avoir  dompti  ton  cceur  ;  ' 
De'ja  tu  veux  oworir  ton  aile 
Et  fenooler,  libre  et  vainqueur. 

Tu  crois  a  la  force  bSnie, 

A  la  vertu  que  rien  n'ahat  .  .  . 

Ka,  la  lutte  n'estpasfime, 
Ce  n'est  que  le  premier  combat 

1  Literally:  "  Its  mould  is  brazen,  though  the  kind  is  rare;  it 
knows  the  value  of  its  Carrara  marble,  and  that  the  rains  of  heaven 
can  never  stain  it." 


il 


it 


I 


252  YOUTH. 

Ton  hme  rCest  point  (Tun  ascHe 
Mors  de  la  matihe  emporie', 
Mais  (Tun  amant  et  d'tin  poeU 
hre  de  forme  et  de  beaui/. 

Ton  canir  est  plus  cbaud  que  le  noire  ; 

Tu  le  sens  bondir  ntut  et  jour. 

Tu  souffriras  done  plus  qu'un  autre 

Par  le  Desir  et  par  r  Amour .^ 

A.  DORCHAIN. 

But  we  must  get  back  to  prose,  and  look  at  the  situ- 
ation as  it  really  exists.  For  in  the  struggle  of  which 
we  speak,  and  which,  be  it  more  or  less  bitter,  no  one 
can  avoid,  the  important  thing  is  not  to  be  always  the 
stronger,  but  never  to  surrender.  In  the  great  book  of 
the  wisdom  of  life,  there  is  a  precept  as  important  as 
that  of  taking  heed  lest  one  fall ;  it  is  that  where  one  is 
bidden  to  rise  again  when  one  has  fallen.  For  a  man 
to  pass  through  life  without  ever  offending  any  law  of 
conscience,  it  is  necessary  that  in  chastity  as  well  as 
other  respects  he  should  be  perfect.  We  have  by  no 
means  reached  that  point.     Let  us  expect,  then,  those 

1  "Child,  in  this  endless  strife  you  believe  that  you  have  gained 
the  mastery  over  your  heart,  and  already  you  would  spread  your 
wing  and  fly  away  free  and  victorious. . 

"  You  believe  in  that  blessed  force,  that  virtue  which  nothing 
can  destroy.  Go  to !  the  struggle  is  not  finished,  —  this  is  but 
the  first  encounter. 

"  Your  soul  is  not  that  of  an  ascetic  carried  beyond  the  concern 
for  material  things,  but  that  of  a  lover  and  a  poet  intoxicated  with 
form  and  beauty. 

"Your  heart  is  warmer  than  ours;  you  can  feel  it  bounding 
night  and  day.  You  will  then  suffer  more  than  another  from  de- 
sire and  love." 


SOLIDARITY:   LOVE. 


253 


dark  hours  when  our  vision  is  troubled,  when  the 
struggle  seems  uncertain,  when  weakness,  discourage- 
ments, and  even  failures  overcome  us.  These  are  most 
unhappy  and  most  perilous  moments.  Never  mind 
them.  A  man  who  is  down  is  not  necessarily  dead ; 
he  may  be  only  wounded  or  have  simply  stumbled. 
The  great  thing  is  for  him  not  to  lie  there,  not  to  give 
up,  lose  hope,  and,  above  all,  not  to  renounce  his  aim. 
Let  his  ideal  remain  intact,  and  his  hope  of  some  day 
coming  off  conqueror  be  unshaken !  Let  the  evil  be 
still  called  evil,  and  let  him  who  has  fallen  recognize 
the  fact !  Above  everything,  let  there  be  no  sophisms, 
no  falsehoods. 

Here  the  jntervention  of  sure  and  tried  friends  is  very 
beneficial.  It  would  be  a  great  shame  to  see  an  upright 
youth,  one  pure  in  heart,  come  to  despise  himself  or 
despair  of  himself,  because  of  this  or  that  moral  defeat 
Let  us  lift  youth  up  and  encourage  it,  with  a  tender- 
ness that  never  fails. 

Who,  alas !  trouble  themselves  about  this .?  Nothing 
equals  the  inconsistency  of  the  world's  conduct  toward 
the  young.  It  sets  them  bad  exarriples,  and  then,  when 
they  go  astray,  abuses  or  keeps  them  down  where  they 
have  fallen.  By  turns  lax  and  severe,  we  ignore  that 
pity  which  lifts  up  and  makes  whole,  and  few  indeed 
know  that  mercy  of  the  just  which  consists  in  hating  the 
sin  while  loving  the  sinner.  We  are  here  treading  a  dif- 
ficult path,  and  one  little  used.  One  would  say  that  we 
were  far  away  from  humanity,  though  in  its  very  midst. 
Is  not  the  great  work  of  life  to  repair  error }  That  is 
not  the  best  army  which  has  never  been  beaten  ;  we  do 


254 


YOUTH. 


SOLIDARITY:   LOVE. 


255 


not  know,  indeed,  how  it  would  behave  in  defeat.  To 
know  oneself  beaten,  to  cover  one's  retreat,  to  collect 
one's  forces,  to  repair  one's  losses,  to  bind  one's  wounds, 
to  reanimate  the  discouraged,  to  return  to  the  combat 
with  new  energy,  —  this  is  the  great,  the  supreme  proof 
of  courage.  And  if  any  Pharisee  blames  me,  and  taxes 
me  with  being  too  indulgent  in  advance,  I  will  quote 
the  words  of  Him  who  was  at  the  same  time  just  but 
merciful,  and  who  proclaimed  that  gospel  of  pardon  in 
which  the  sin  is  condemned  and  the  sinner  is  saved : 
He  that  is  without  sin  among  you,  let  him  first  cast 
a  stone. 


* 


It  is  time  now  to  leave  these  preliminary  topics,  in 
order  to  treat  of  love  in  its  plenitude  and  its  dignity. 
It  is  on  its  behalf,  and  that  we  may  be  more  worthy  of 
it,  that  we  wage  a  war  without  mercy  against  whatever 
can  tarnish  or  compromise  it.  To  protect  us  from  all 
the  base  caricatures  of  love,  nothing  is  more  powerful 
than  true  love  itself.  This  love  youth  should  prepare 
for ;  it  should  recognize  all  that  is  highest  and  purest 
in  it.  In  a  word,  the  chastity  which  we  preach  is  not 
that  of  eunuchs,  but  of  men.  "  I  think  little  of  a  chas- 
tity which  is  entirely  on  the  surface  and  entirely  nega- 
tive ;  it  gives  no  guarantee  for  the  future.  True  chastity 
has  its  seat  in  the  soul  as  well  as  in  the  body.  An 
empty  heart  is  never  chaste ;  a  wife  must  occupy  the 
sacred  place  which  belongs  to  her."  ^ 

Respect  for  woman  is  the  complement  of  self-respect. 

1  T.  Fallot:  Leitre  de  25  aoiit,  1891. 


Just  as  self-respect  rests  on  the  conception  which  one 
forms  of  life  and  its  worth,  so  respect  for  woman  is  the 
reflex  form  of  an  instinct  which  is  connected  with  the 
deepest  secrets  of  life.  Wherever  it  is  seen,  it  results 
from  the  union  of  two  elements, —  the  masculine  and 
the  feminine,  which  are  like  severed  parts.  It  seems  as 
if  the  perfect  being  was  made  in  separate  individualities, 
neither  of  which  can  live  by  itself,  in  order  to  oblige 
them  each  to  seek  the  other,  to  make  a  perfect  whole. 
The  attraction  which  draws  man  to  woman  is  vastly 
stronger  than  the  temporary  gratification  of  lust.  It  is 
a  mysterious  power  of  the  widest  reach,  —  the  power  of 
immortal  womanhood.  And  it  is  precisely  to  give  this 
all  its  strength,  that  he  must  inspire  himself  with  the 
twofold  respect,  —  that,  namely,  for  himself  and  for 
woman,  —  different  forms  of  the  same  veneration  for 
the  mysteries  of  life.  Just  as  self-respect  springs  from 
the  high  idea  we  have  of  manliness,  and  thus  comes 
from  a  higher  source  than  our  individual  personality,  so 
our  respect  for  woman  in  general  precedes  that  for  some 
particular  woman.  And  if  love  is  to  reach  in  us  its 
true  dignity  and  its  fullest  scope,  a  broad  impersonal 
basis  is  necessary  for  it.  We  find  ourselves,  then,  in 
the  same  position,  as  regards  love,  that  we  are  in  toward 
the  majority  of  sentiments  that  attract  and  interest 
youth.  They  have  their  beginning  in  a  general  senti- 
ment, and  later  on  they  concentrate  this  on  one  object. 
Just  as,  at  the  beginning  of  life,  the  young  man  is 
curious  about  everything,  sympathetic  toward  every- 
thing, and,  little  by  little,  devotes  his  attention  to  speci- 
fied objects,  so  his  love  takes  on  at  first  a  general 


256 


YOUTH. 


:     I 


■i 

i 
1 1 


character.  We  do  not  begin  by  loving  a  woman,  and, 
above  all,  women,  —  which  latter  can  be  but  the  result 
of  long  decadence  and  the  equivalent  of  dilettanteism  in 
morality  and  philosophy,  —we  begin  by  loving  woman- 
hood, or  rather  by  experiencing  that  sentiment  at  once 
irresistible,  sweet,  elevating,  and  inspiring,  which  we 
can  justly  entitle  the  cult  for  woman.  The  cult  for 
woman  is  the  origin  and  the  source  of  love ;  it  must 
exist  before  love,  must  live  beside  it,  and  endure  its 
whole  lifetime. 


But  I  must  not  stop  at  this  point.  It  is  as  necessary 
to  know  and  cultivate  the  real  woman  as  the  ideal 
woman.  We  do  not  think  that  she  should  be  kept 
apart  from  young  men,  hidden,  cloistered,  and  sur- 
rounded by  the  perilous  glamour  of  forbidden  fruit. 
She  should,  on  the  contrary,  be  sought  out  and  seen 
often.  Our  society  has  made  a  great  mistake.  Not 
only  does  it  not  encourage  in  youth  the  ideal  cult  for 
woman,  but  it  does  all  it  can  to  keep  the  sexes  apart, 
and  thus  prevent  them  from  knowing  each  other  as 
they  are.  It  is  a  great  evil.  How  shall  we  hinder 
facile  liaisons  ?  How  shall  we  prevent,  above  all,  the 
contempt  for  woman  — that  social  calamity  —  from 
spreading  among  youth  which  knows  only  the  worst 
side  01  the  feminine  world  ? 


*  * 


Young  people  of  both  sexes  are  made  to  see  one 
another  and  to  be  together.  They  should  have  com- 
mon amusements,  common  pleasures,  —  naturally  under 


SOLIDARITY:   LOVE. 


257 


I 


T"     I 

ll 


the  eyes  of  their  parents,  and  surrounded,  above  all 
in  a  world  like  ours,  with  necessary  precautions.  In 
truth,  when  we  consider  the  life  open  to  our  youth,  we 
are  obliged  to  say  that  it  is  cut  off  from  the  purest 
pleasures.  No  one  seems  to  remember  that  when  one 
is  young  one  has  need  of  a  host  of  things,  —  need  of 
affection,  of  an  interchange  of  sentiments  with  pleas- 
ant women  who  are  worthy  of  respect,  of  frank  and 
genial  gayety  shared  with  young  girls  of  the  same 
age.  This  need  in  the  case  of  a  young  man,  presum- 
ably not  etiolate  and  corrupt,  is  much  stronger  than 
those  baser  needs  we  hear  so  much  about. 

Yes,  in  that  errant  and  indistinct,  that  groping  life, 
which  is  the  life  of  youth,  it  needs  enlightened  and 
warm  friendships,  smiles  and  brightness,  to  dissipate 
gloomy  thoughts,  and  encouraging  looks  to  drive  away 
mournful  or  evil  suggestions.  It  has  a  heart,  and  what 
troubles  me  is  that,  as  a  rule,  no  one  seems  to  suspect 
it.  Is  it,  then,  astonishing  that  youth  seeks  gratifica- 
tion in  forbidden  paths,  since  everywhere  else  it  is  re- 
pulsed ?  Alas  !  though  it  seeks  it  far  and  near,  it  finds 
only  illusion  and  disgust,  and  soon  realizes  that  free 
love  is  but  a  mirage  of  the  desert. 

Ob  !  bien  fou  qui  prendrait  pour  eclair gr  ses  pas 

Ces  lueurs  trompeuses  oufeintes! 

•     Ne  te  returne  pas  !  ne  les  re  garde  pas  ! 

Ce  sont  des  /toiles  eteintes.^ 

A.  DORCHAIN. 

*  *'  Oh  !  fool  is  he  who  takes  these  delusive  and  false  gleams  to 
lighten  his  path.  Turn  not;  disregard  them;  they  are  but  ex- 
tinct stars." 

17 


if 


258 


YOUTH. 


The  worst  result  of  our  wretched  and  abnormal  life, 
of  our  incurable  laxity  as  regards  love,  of  our  corrup- 
tion, is  that  it  has  made  us  lose  that  world  of  charm 
and  beauty  which  I  will  call  the  halo  of  love.  It  is  a 
morning  land  fullof  bursting  flowers,  bathed  in  the 
sunshine  and  the  dew,  a  pure  and  virgin  soil  where 
no  foot  has  trod,  where  no  dust  and  no  stain  have 
come.  It  is  the  land  where  love  is  born  amid  the 
friendships,  the  smiles,  the  sports  of  youth.  We 
see  there  but  its  sweetness ;  the  depth  of  its  suffering 
is  hidden.  Love,  without  doubt,  is  good,  even  when 
it  makes  us  weep.  We  must  regret  none  of  it,  not 
even  our  tears  and  disappointments.  But  the  land  of 
which  I  speak  does  not  know  them  as  yet.  It  lies  at 
the  threshold  of  our  life,  like  a  radiant  paradise  where 
the  happiness  of  living,  of  seeing,  of  worshipping  rev- 
erently from  afar,  and  oftenest  without  telling  our  love, 
suffices  us.  We  have  closed  this  paradise.  We  must 
reopen  it  and  teach  our  youth  to  desire  it.  It  will  soon 
learn  that  there  are  more  pleasure  and  more  charm  in 
this  flower  of  sentiment  than  in  all  artificial  pleasures 
put  together.  A  youth  without  love  is  like  a  morn- 
ing without  sun.  If  our  youth  is  morose,  it  is  because 
many  have  become  sceptical  as  to  love.  They  have 
taken  the  very  paths  that  led  them  from  it.  Life  casts 
off  him  who  has  troubled  its  source ;  thenceforth  it 
refuses  him.  Nevermore  can  he  grasp  its  vigorous 
beauty.  Neither  the  blue  heavens,  nor  the  flowers,  nor 
the  murmuring  waters  reveal  to  him  their  secret.  He 
feels  himself  shut  out  of  life.  This  is  the  most  terrible 
of  excommunications.    To  his  withered  soul  the  world 


SOLIDARITY:   LOVE. 


259 


seems  withered.  He  who  respects  himself  and  respects 
k)ve,  knows  intense  joys,  the  joys  of  a  child,  unknown 
to  others.  He  has  preserved  intact  the  power  of  being 
happy ;  a  healthful  and  vigorous  life  runs  in  his  arte- 
ries like  sap  in  the  trunk  of  an  oak ;  his  youth  gives 
him  that  divine  intoxication  which  makes  the  whole 
world  sing  in  his  heart.  All  the  lives  of  dissipation  put 
together  are  not  worth  one  of  his  hours. 

Youthful  enthusiasm  is  but  another  form  of  love. 
It  increases  and  lessens  with  it.  In  proportion  as  our 
power  of  loving  and  the  quality  of  our  love  diminish 
in  us,  enthusiasm  also  lowers  or  changes.  Respectful 
love  is  a  source  not  only  of  poetry,  of  joy,  of  high 
spirits,  but  also  of  power  and  courage.  The  secrets  of 
virtue  lie  open  wholly  to  him  who  practises  virile  chas- 
tity. Virtue  is  but  the  summing  up  of  all  the  manly 
qualities  which  blossom  in  this  world  of  beauty  and 
fidelity.  It  is  she  who  makes  strong,  indomitable  hearts, 
clear-seeing  eyes,  and  arms  that  can  strike  mighty 
blows.  To  me,  this  concentration  of  strength,  this 
proud  consciousness  of  its  dignity  and  its  power,  seem 
its  highest  recompense. 

I  do  not  wish  to  insist  too  much  on  that  other  recom- 
pense, which  will  consist,  later  on,  in  entering  marriage, 
sound  in  body  and  young  in  heart,  with  the  woman  of 
your  choice.  Lofty  as  this  aim  is,  its  fulfilment  can- 
not but  seem  a  little  far  off,  especially  in  view  of  the 
harsh  demands  of  existing  society. 

Nevertheless,  if  one  plan  his  future  career  and  pre- 
pare himself  for  it,  ought  he  not  also  to  give  thought 
to  the  time  when  his  duties  as  head  of  a  family,  as  pro- 


260 


YOUTH. 


tector  of  a  wife,  as  a  father,  create  new  responsibilities 
in  him  ?  He  who  has  never  thanked  his  parents  for 
having  so  lived  as  to  bequeath  him  sound  health,  pure 
blood,  a  complete  vitality,  does  not  realize  the  solidarity 
of  flesh  and  blood,  nor  what  austere  duties  we  have  to 
perform  toward  those  who  will  some  day  be  born  of 
us.  Of  all  the  crimes  committed  under  God's  heaven, 
that  which  1  would  least  like  to  have  upon  my  con- 
science would  be  to  have  polluted  in  my  person  the 
source  of  life,  and  to  leave  to  others  a  weakened  exist- 
ence,  loaded  with  miseries,  a  wretched  body,  and  a 
worn-out  mind. 

These  things  are  worthy  of  consideration,  and  youth 
is  the  only  age  when  it  is  not  too  late  to  consider  them. 


* 
*  * 


Thus  far  we  have  treated  but  one  phase  of  love.  It 
is  time  that  we  looked  higher  and  farther. 

4.  ILobe  of  Countn^t  ann  c|)e  ^ctal  M6U  of 

Ipoutlj* 

Beyond  the  family,  friendships,  and  love  —  those 
intimate  and  sacred  worlds  where  the  individual  is  ini- 
tiated into  its  solidarity  —  stretches,  enveloping  them 
all,  his  country. 

Patriotism  in  its  essence  is  our  joyous  communion 
with  the  surroundings  of  our  birth.  The  flower  laughs 
in  its  natal  sun ;  the  oak  grasps  the  soil  in  its  powerful 
embrace,  and  draws  thence  its  nourishment ;  man  smiles 
on  the  paternal  roof,  on  its  encircling  life,  on  his  father 


SOLIDARITY:   LOVE  OF  COUNTRY. 


261 


and  mother ;  he  is  full  of  it  all,  he  is  attached  to  it  all, 
at  first  unconsciously,  then,  little  by  little,  with  full  real- 
ization. Through  the  family,  that  primal  form  of  all 
love,  man  rises  to  a  broader,  richer  love,  —  that  of  his 
country.  By  an  interchange  of  influences  and  benefits 
the  country  unceasingly  produces  the  family,  nourishes 
it  from  its  strength,  forms  and  inspires  it ;  and  the 
family  remakes,  renews,  and  perpetuates  the  country. 

"  Patriotism  is,  then,  an  ensemble  of  sentiments,  of 
inherited  tendencies,  of  affinities,  which  make  us  dis- 
cern beyond  the  individual  life,  beyond  the  life  of  the 
family,  a  grand  and  broad  common  life  in  which  we 
have  a  part. 

"  Our  country  is  a  part  of  our  blood,  of  the  nervous 
fibre  of  our  individual  life,  of  our  thought,  of  our 
speech,  of  our  very  tones  of  voice.  It  is  knit  in  our 
bones,  and  sings  on  our  lips. 

**  Our  country  is,  further,  the  skies  above  us,  the 
mountains,  the  fields,  the  vast  ocean  that  beats  upon  our 
shores.  All  this  is  not  without  us,  it  is  within  us.  We 
carry  in  our  very  bodies,  as  it  were,  an  echo  of  our 
motherland,  and  in  our  hearts  her  image  radiant  and 
ineffaceable. 

"  Our  country  is,  still  further,  all  they  who  sleep  in 
the  tomb,  our  fathers  and  our  mothers.  It  is  the  torch 
of  life  passed  from  hand  to  hand  through  the  ages, 
which  we  hold  in  our  turn ;  it  is  all  that  we  have 
suffered,  thought,  struggled,  prayed  for,  — all  our 
patrimony  of  trials  and  glory,  of  virtues  and  failures, 
of  living  strength  or  of  open  wounds. 
"  Our  country  is  our  grandsires,  but  it  is  also  our 


262 


YOUTH. 


I; 


children.  It  is  the  frail  and  lovely  head  which  comes 
demanding  a  place  at  our  fireside ;  it  is  he  who,  lying 
on  his  mother's  knees,  bears  sleeping  within  him  all 
the  past  and  all  the  future. 

"  Truly  our  country  is  greater  than  the  individual  or 
than  the  family.  It  is  one  of  those  grand  stages  in  that 
mysterious  life  which  advances  from  the  individual  to  a 
fuller,  higher  existence,  and  which  demands,  justifies, 
and  imposes  all  sacrifices,  even  that  of  our  own  life."  ^ 

A  real  and  powerful  love  of  country  can  be  almost 
instinctive ;  but  it  has  everything  to  gain  in  becoming 
conscient  and  reflective.  It  then  initiates  one  into  the 
national  life  and  soul.  The  time  for  this  initiation  is 
youth.  He  who  is  passing  through  the  period  when 
the  genius  of  his  nation  is  revealed  to  him,  perceives 
within  himself  a  new  birth.  The  deeper  and  more 
serious  this  inner  action  is,  the  purer  and  loftier  is  his 
love  for  his  country.  We  must  reject  a  noisy,  braggart, 
blustering  patriotism,  and  fill  ourselves  rather  with  that 
which  is  silent,  true,  and  active.  Above  all,  do  I  wish 
that  you  never  give  way  to  "  jingoism,"  which  is  the 
caricature  of  patriotism.  The  best  way  to  love  one's 
country  is  to  cultivate  the  genius  of  it  in  oneself,  and 
to  watch  carefully  against  those  mistakes  and  faults 
which  will  stain  its  good  name.  The  duty  of  French 
youth  in  this  respect  is  as  noble  as  it  is  easy  to  deter- 
mine. The  whole  course  of  our  history  points  it  out 
to  us.  Democratic  France  —  born  of  the  joint  action 
of  the  human  will  and  the  force  of  circumstances  — 
sees,  more  and  more,  its  ideal  blend  with  the  ideal  of 

1  C.  IVagner :  fustia,p.  113. 


I" 


SOLIDARITY:  LOVE  OF  COUNTRY.  263 

human  progress.    No  country  in  the  world  has  spent 
its  resources,  its  genius,  its  blood,  for  immaterial  good, 
for  liberty,  justice,  truth,  as  has  ours.    It  has  sought 
these  not  only  for  itself,  but  for  others,  often  for  the 
enemies  of  yesterday  or  to-morrow.    Our  history  is 
the  most  splendid  refutation  of  national  utilitarianism. 
We,  at  least,  have  not  made  of  our  country  an  agglom- 
eration of  egoisms,  nor  an  attack  on  humanity.    The 
grand  traditions  of  heroism  and  of  generosity  which 
result  from  such  a  past  as  ours  are  wholly  of  a  kind  to 
elevate  the  instinctive  love  for  the  fatherland  to  that 
sentiment,  at  once  reflective  and  enthusiastic,  where  the 
cult  of  country  is  the  same  as  the  cult  of  humanity 
What  ideal  could  be  more  beautiful  to  fire  and  form  the 
characters  of  the  young,  and  inspire  noble  lives  ? 

I  do  not  in  the  least  deduce  from  this  that  French 
youth  should  aspire  to  the  questionable  habits  of  those 
cosmopolites  whose   mouths   are  full    of   the  word 
"  humanity,"  but  who  treat  patriotism  as  a  prejudice 
Without  country  humanity  is  but  a  hollow  entity    Just 
as  he  who  discharges  faithfully  his  duties  to  his  family 
renders  the  greatest  service  to  his  country,  so,  in  devot- 
ing himself  to  his  duties  as  a  citizen  of  some  one  country 
he  serves  humanity.    The  true  way  for  us  to  serve 
humanity  is  to  cherish  with  the  greatest  affection  the 
sacred  flame  of  the  national  ideal,  and  to  warm  ourselves 
always  at  it  anew. 

The  cause  of  that  liberty,  justice,  and  equality  which 
our  democracy  is  trying  to  realize  is  in  a  great  meas- 
ure, in  the  world  at  large,  dependent  on  the  treatment 
which  it  receives  at  our  hands.    We  can  make  it  sue- 


264 


YOUTH. 


ceed  or  fail  by  the  way  we  organize  our  national  life. 
The  more  I  see  of  the  march  of  events,  the  better  do  I 
understand  that  in  attending  to  our  duties  as  French- 
men we  are  accomplishing  at  the  same  time  a  general 
mission.  I  deduce,  then,  very  naturally  this  :  humanity 
is  interested  that  French  democracy  be  strong  and 
wise.  It  will  always  become  more  so,  if  united. 
Humanity,  then,  is  interested  that  we  be  on  as  good 
terms  as  possible  with  our  compatriots,  and  that  we 
treat  them  justly  and  kindly,  —  in  a  word,  as  brothers. 
Is  this  not  evident  enough  ?  To  assume  it,  nevertheless, 
is  to  foresee  a  vast  prograrnme.  For  much  must  be  done 
before  our  noble  national  ideal  can  be  widely  practised. 
We  must  not  confound  this  ideal  with  the  spectacle 
which  its  daily  life  affords.  Verily,  if  that  life  is  ad- 
vancing toward  our  ideal,  it  is  still  far  from  it.  Let  us 
acknowledge  the  truth  honestly,  —  the  mass  of  our 
people  are  still  far  removed  from  education  in  demo- 
cracy and  the  ways  of  liberty.  We  have  seen  it  rise 
by  its  energy,  its  activity,  its  elasticity,  from  unprece- 
dented defeat  from  without.  It  has  nothing  to  dread 
from  that  quarter.  If  it  be  but  vigilant,  it  can  rest  in 
the  consciousness  of  its  strength  and  its  regained  dig- 
nity. The  time  has  come  to  turn  all  our  attention  to 
our  internal  affairs,  that  we  may  raise  by  our  behaviour, 
as  citizens,  the  ensemble  of  national  life  to  the  plane  of 
our  democratic  ideal.  Here  the  duty  and  the  rdle  of 
youth  are  clear.  I  am  going  to  try  to  point  them  out 
briefly,  and  I  will  say  to  each  of  my  young  compatriots : 
If  you  love  your  country,  this  is  what  you  must  do. 


« 
*  • 


SOLIDARITY  :   LOVE  OF  COUNTRY.  265 

By  a  sort  of  fatality,  which  all  other  nations  too  are 
experiencing  in  different  degrees,  society  has  reached 
a  state  of  disunion  much  to  be  regretted.     Interests 
social  positions   political  creeds,  philosophic  opinions,' 
beliefs,  all  tend  to  separate  us.    There  is  no  need  to  be 
specific.    Read  the  papers  and  observe  life.    Since  the 
press  and  speech  have  been  free,  how  many  days  pass 
without  some  of  our  fellow-citizens  being  wronged  by 
others  ?   The  higher  genius  of  a  nation  must  be  power- 
tul,  indeed,  to  triumph  over  such  a  state  of  affairs 
If,  notwithstanding,  we  are  steadily  advancing,  what  an 
unshaken  faith  must  that  be  which  animates  our  prin- 
ciples?   We  should  have  still  greater  reason  for  ad- 
vance If,  instead  of  being  disunited,  we  marched  hand 
m  hand.    National  concentration  is  the  great  work  for 
us  to  attempt ;  the  times  are  ripe  for  it. 

I  know  that  youth  suffers  from  the  melancholy 
spectacle  of  so  many  useless  struggles  and  so  many 
antagonisms,  and  that  it  is  animated  by  loftier  aims 
We  can  address  it  the  more  confidently  because  we  feel 
that  It  IS  in  sympathy  with  us.    I  will  say  to  it  •  You 
have  done  well  during  several  years  past  to  try  to 
come  together  and  to  organize,  and  I  approve  all  that 
has  resulted  from  this  salutary  inspiration.   Associations 
or  circles  of  students,  young  people's  societies,  what- 
ever may  be  their  shades  of  difference  and  their  aims 
do  good  in  this  way,~that  they  cultivate  esprit  de  corps 
Sometimes,  alas !  they  cultivate  especial  "  isms  "  and 
party  spirit,  which  amounts  to  associating  for  a  bad 
purpose.  But  I  mention  this  unfortunate  tendency  only 
m  passing.    As  a  rule,  association  among  equals  is  an 


266 


YOUTH. 


SOLIDARITY:   LOVE  OF  COUNTRY. 


267 


excellent  thing.  It  gives  a  higher  interest  to  life  and 
thought.  But  I  ask  more  of  it  than  this.  You  are  in 
the  habit  of  seeking  those  of  similar  tastes,  —  according 
to  the  old  proverb,  Like  seeks  like.  This  is  in  re- 
sponse to  a  need,  — that  of  coming  in  contact  with 
people  of  the  same  world  and  the  same  way  of  thinking 
as  ourselves.  But  if  you  are  concerned  only  for  this, 
you  will  inevitably  end  in  being  narrow-minded.  Nar- 
rowness engenders  the  clannish  spirit,  which,  again,  is  a 
great  evil.  We  must  remember  that  man  needs  to  see 
and  hear  other  things  than  those  of  his  accustomed 
surroundings.  Step^ outside  of  your  associations,  your 
circles,  your  clubs,  and  see  what  is  going  on  elsewhere. 
Mingle  with  minds  of  a  different  shade  from  your  own. 
The  result  will  be  kaleidoscopic,  but  at  the  same  time 
how  interesting  and  instructive ! 

In  a  democratic  country,  where  every  opinion  has  a 
right  to  be  heard,  we  need  to  cultivate  the  faculty  of 
listening.  We  know  how  to  speak,  how  to  shout  even, 
but  we  do  not  know  how  to  listen  to  our  opponent. 
At  bottom  we  have  a  very  poor  respect  for  authority. 
As  soon  as  opinions  contrary  to  our  own  are  advanced, 
a  demon  within  incites  us  to  cry.  Enough  !  The  result 
is  that  while  we  are  entirely  free  to  associate  and 
discuss,  our  own  fault  often  forbids  what  the  law  sanc- 
tions. Nine  times  out  of  ten  a  public  meeting  degener- 
ates  into  an  uproar  or  a  fight.  This  is  not  democratic. 
We  must  learn,  then,  to  bear  contradiction.  How 
shall  we  do  this  ?  By  seeking  among  our  young  com- 
patriots those  of  different  opinions,  different  religious 
views,  different  studies,  and  serving  with  them  an  ap- 


prenticeship to  liberty  and  toleration,  or,  as  I  like  better 
to  call  it,  justice. 

Youth  is  not,  as  a  rule,  evilly  disposed.    Even  stags 
are  kindly  when  young;  their  bloodthirsty  instincts 
awake  later.    It  is  the  same  with  man.      If  we  take 
advantage  of  his  naturally  happy  disposition,  we  can 
secure  most  excellent  results.      I  know  of   student 
societies  in  Switzerland  where  political  differences  have 
no  influence  whatever.    These  societies  are  so  limited 
in  point  of  numbers  that  there  are  good  fellowship 
and  even  friendships  among  their  members.    Friend- 
ship, like  love,  often  exists  between  persons  of  different 
social  standing,  and  long  outlasts  the  years  of  study. 
These  friends  of  youth  often  find  themselves  in  rival 
political  camps,  or  separated  by  those  other  distances 
which  life  creates.    But  their  common  memories  make 
a  neutral  ground  on  which  to  meet,  and  this  takes  from 
their  contentions  much  of  their  bitterness.    Doubtless, 
such  things  occur  among  us  also.    But  they  are  excep- 
tions, only  too  rare.    We  are  brought  up  in  herds  sepa- 
rated   from    one  another,  and  party  interests  often 
demand  that  youth  itself  be  enrolled  and  drawn  up 
for  battle. 
Sainte-Beuve  has  said,  — 

//  existe,  en  un  mot,  che{  hs  trots  quarts  des  bommes, 
Un  pdbte,  mort  jeune,  a  qui  Vbomme  survit.^ 

In  a  certain  sense  this  is  true ;  but  we  can  with  much 
more  truth  say  that  what  dies  young  in  three  fourths  of 

1  "There  is,  in  a  word,  in  three  fourths  of  mankind,  a  poet  who 
has  died  young,  whom  the  man  has  survived." 


i 


268 


YOUTH. 


SOLIDARITY:  LOVE  OF  COUNTRY. 


269 


us  is  the  man  himself.  In  lieu  of  him  there  survives  a 
lawyer,  a  professor,  a  politician,  a  financier,  a  workman, 
a  churchman.  And  when  one  wishes  to  address  these 
survivors,  these  sad  remains,  and  tell  them  of  humanity, 
of  human  duties  and  human  interests,  they  answer: 
It  is  none  of  our  affair. 

Can  we  not,  in  traversing  our  own  country,  meet  a  host 
of  men  in  whom  the  Frenchman  has  died  young,  yield- 
ing his  place  to  a  radical,  an  anarchist,  a  monarchist,  a 
clerical?  For  the  love  of  our  fair  land,  let  us  so 
nourish  the  Frenchman  in  us  that  he  may  survive  all 
the  epithets  that  will  be  heaped  upon  him  later  on,  and 
let  us  create  harmonious  surroundings  where  shall  be 
able  to  meet  together  men  of  good-will  from  all  the  four 
quarters  of  the  intellectual  horizon. 


* 
*  * 


But  this  is  not  enough.  We  must  overstep  social 
barriers.  Studious  youth  and  the  youth  of  the  people 
have  much  to  learn  each  from  the  other. 

During  the  delightful  fetes  of  the  University  of 
Toulouse,  in  May,  1891,  M.  Jaures,  professor  of  phi- 
losophy,  said  as  follows :  "  The  advance  of  some  of 
us  toward  truth  must  be  evidenced  by  a  general  ad- 
vance toward  justice;  and  just  as  in  these  May  days 
the  beautiful  garden  which  surrounds  these  buildings 
sends  into  the  very  laboratories  and  libraries  breaths  of 
perfume  from  the  reawakened  earth,  so  ought  pure 
knowledge  and  high  thinking  to  be  permeated  by  the 
fraternal  spring  of  human  association."  These  are  most 
beautiful  sentiments,  and  they  should   be  put   into 


practice.   I  have  spoken  already,  several  times,  of  certain 
teachers  of  evil,  who  for  filthy  lucre  corrupt  the  people 
and  sell  them  their  detestable  writings.     If  studious 
youth,  as  a  whole,  understood  its  duties  in  this  respect, 
it  would  soon  make  an  organized  fight  against  these 
pernicious  influences.    The  efforts  of  certain  societies 
in  Paris  and  in  the  provinces  in  this  direction  deserve 
to  be  imitated.    But  let  no  one  imagine  that  this  will 
be  the  only  advantage  from  that  drawing  together 
of  classes  which  1  so  much  desire,  and  for  which  I 
pray.     The  people  will  bring  as  much  to  it  as  you. 
We   must   not  only  harangue  them,  we  must  seek 
them  out,  we  must  visit  them,  we  must  be  friends 
with  young  workmen,   and,  if  possible,  even  found 
societies  where  shall  come  together  all  the  elements 
that  go  to  the  making  of  our  country.    To  organize 
a  public  spirit  and  a  common  thought  in  the  nation, 
we  must  begin  in  these  little  ways,  so  laborious,  and 
often  so  difficult  to  put  into  practice.     Habitual  and 
kindly   intercourse    between   the  different   grades   of 
society  destroys  a  host  of  those  evil  prejudices  which 
are  so  easily  maintained.     They  do  not  know  one 
another  or  they  would  understand  this.     We  cannot 
remedy  this  social  disunion  and  universal  distrust  among 
the  masses  by  a  single  concerted  action.     Confidence 
can  only  be  regained  little  by  little.     A  whole  new 
world  opens  to  us  here  which  we  are  only  just  begin- 
ning to  enter.     I  can  never  forget  the  good  which  1 
have  constantly  brought  away  from  familiar  commerce 
with  the  people,  both  in  the  city  and  in  the  country, 
as  well  as  from  the  delightful  reunions  of  the  societies 


270 


YOUTH. 


for  brotherly  aid  and  social  studies,  founded  in  Paris 
ten  years  ago  by  M.  T.  Fallot,  which  deserve  to  be 
better  known  and  attended. 


There  is  still  another  way  to  be  pointed  out.  Good- 
will alone  is  all  that  is  needed  to  carry  out  the  one  we 
have  been  speaking  of,  but  for  this  one  there  is  needed 
a  spirit  of  sacrifice  and  of  heroism.  It  is  nothing  less 
than  to  make  voyages  of  discovery  into  the  different 
domains  of  the  life  of  the  people.  This  life  is  full  of 
seamy  sides,  of  grievous  or  admirable  details  which  can- 
not  be  seen  from  without.  The  people  understand  and 
judge  themselves  badly;  they  can  give  us  no  informa- 
tion on  the  subject.  We  are,  then,  in  face  of  a  world 
closed  not  by  distrust  alone  nor  from  choice,  but  by  the 
force  of  circumstances.  To  find  its  key  we  must  re- 
solve to  live  the  life  of  the  lowly.  Just  as  some  persons 
take  the  train  or  cross  the  sea  to  explore  far-off  lands, 
so  must  we  leave  for  a  time  our  world  to  traverse  not 
great  material,  but  great  social  distances.  At  such  a 
day  and  such  an  hour  you  cease  to  be  he  whom  you 
were.  Under  different  dress,  among  persons  unknown 
to  you,  you  engage  yourself  as  a  labourer,  a  servant,  a 
private  soldier,  cutting  off  rigorously  all  recollection  of 
your  privileges  and  making  no  use  whatever  of  them. 
You  enter  their  rank  in  life,  and  you  agree  to  be  treated 
like  the  rest  of  their  world.  There  is  no  book,  no  per- 
son, even  the  most  experienced,  that  can  open  your 
eyes  as  can  this  kind  of  investigation. 

When  a  man  is  preparing  himself  to  exercise  an  in- 


SOLIDARITY  :   LOVE  OF  COUNTRY. 


271 


fluence  of  some  kind,  to  direct  no  matter  what,  to  hold 
in  his  hand  a  portion  of  another's  destiny,  as  is  the  case 
with  the  majority  of  educated  youth,  it  is  worth  while 
to  have  passed  some  time  among  his  constituents,  the 
weak  and  the  ignorant,  that  he  may  divine  better 
through  suffering  the  secret  of  justice. 

Nothing  prepares  one  to  command  as  does  obedi- 
ence ;  nothing  is  so  useful  to  him  who  is  to  speak, 
direct,  or  decide  authoritatively,  as  to  have  first  been 
obliged  to  obey  in  silence,  whether  his  orders  were  good 
or  bad,  just  or  unjust. 

A  single  slight  illness,  where^  he  must  resign  himself 
to  be  treated  or  maltreated  by  a  professional  brother, 
is  worth  to  a  physician  a  whole  year's  observation  of 
others. 

Our  ancestors  had  in  certain  lands  the  suggestive 
custom  of  once  a  year  reversing  the  role  of  servants 
and  masters.  It  was  at  Christmas,  in  memory  of  the 
gospel.  The  same  custom,  taken  seriously,  would 
afford  most  spiritual  and  most  serious  object-lessons. 
To  put  oneself  in  another's  place  is,  in  truth,  the  very 
essence  of  solidarity.  » 

Life  looks  very  differently  from  the  point  of  view  of 
the  anvil  than  from  that  of  the  hammer.  It  is  good 
to  see  it  from  both  points. 

The  advantage  of  these  investigations  which  we  are 
recommending  to  youth  does  not  consist  alone  in  the 
discoveries  that  we  make  in  this  new  field.  When  we 
return  to  it,  our  old  life  presents  to  us  details  we  had 
never  noticed  before ;  we  are  better  able  to  appreciate 
it,  and  to  estimate  it.    In  a  word,  we  have  had  a  salutary 


272 


YOUTH. 


experience ;  and  the  old  man,  narrow  and  egoistic,  has 
been  done  away  with,  leaving  a  clearer  field  for  the 
new  man. 

We  cannot  come  too  near  to  these  beings  simpler 
than  ourselves,  nor  turn  too  strong  a  light  on  the  differ- 
ent courses  of  the  social  edifice,  even  to  its  very  source 
and  foundation.  There  comes  a  time  in  life  when  it  is 
too  late  to  throw  oneself  into  the  enterprises  of  which 
we  speak.  They  are  escapades  suitable  for  youth,  to 
whom  they  offer  an  opportunity  of  passing  a  vacation 
which  will  be  anything  but  commonplace.  Let  it  not 
imagine  that  it  is  demeaning  itself  in  so  doing.  It  is  far 
otherwise.  Man  is  like  the  oak  ;  the  deeper  his  roots 
go,  the  higher  does  he  lift  his  head. 

5.  a  moth  on  tfte  International  Kole  of 

^out^* 

The  strain  between  modem  principles  and  realistic 
civilization  has  found  an  expression  nowhere  more 
striking  than  in  the  state  of  our  international  rela- 
tions. For  long  years  Europe,  under  the  appearance 
of  progress,  has  been  retrograding  into  barbarism.  We 
have  said  enough  about  patriotism  to  prevent  our 
being  suspected  of  lukewarmness  in  that  respect.  It 
will  be  so  much  the  more  easy  to  speak  frank/y  on 
this  topic. 

The  principle  of  nationality  is  susceptible  of  an 
exaggeration  that  destroys  the  beneficial  effects  of 
patriotism,  and  makes  of  one's  country  an  attack  upon 
humanity.    In  this  way  a  nation  ceases  to  be  a  grand 


SOLIDARITY:  INTERNATIONAL  ROLE  OF  YOUTH.    275 

school  of  fraternity,  broadening  the  heart  and  ripening 
one  for  universal  solidarity.  It  becomes  the  home  of 
egoism,  where  are  fomented  hostility,  hatred,  envy, 
all  the  sentiments  that  disrupt  society  and  destroy 
solidarity.  This  state  of  affairs  is  so  unhappy 
that  it  alone  neutralizes  all  man's  real  progress  toward 
justice  and  enfranchisement.  Our  Europe,  sullen 
and  distrustful,  furnishes  us  many  plain  proofs  of 
this. 

Here,  also,  the  modern  spirit  with  its  power  to  be 
just  and  reasonable,  has  a  work  to  do  which  the  pre- 
sent moment  invites.  A  thousand  peremptory  reasons 
prevent  men  of  experience,  intrusted  with  the  charge 
of  public  affairs,  from  taking  part  in  this  work.  Tragic 
necessities  and  situations  beyond  the  influence  of  human 
will  tie  their  hands.  Abeyance  and  reserve  are  imposed 
on  them  by  their  very  position,  and  by  the  magnitude 
of  the  interests  confided  to  their  care. 

But  youth,  studious  youth,  can  do  much. 

The  republic  of  letters,  arts,  and  sciences  no  longer 
exists.  We  must  resuscitate  it,  and  so  create  a  common 
ground  on  a  loftier  plane.  If  this  noble  city  of  the 
mind  were  possible  in  old  Europe,  when  broken  into  a 
hundred  little  states  unceasingly  at  war,  why  should  we 
despair  of  rebuilding  it  to-day  ?  All  the  better  part  of 
our  nature  urges  us  to  so  noble  a  task.  The  founda- 
tions are  laid;  we  have  but  to  seize  on  all  the  ele- 
ments of  solidarity,  peace,  work,  enlightenment,  the 
good-will  everywhere  about  us,  to  create  a  marvellous 
whole. 

But  one  of  the  essential  conditions  of  success  is  that 


274 


YOUTH. 


the  coming  generations  should  have  put  in  practice  this 
international  life  in  their  youth.  Their  very  youth 
affords  a  common  ground,  and  an  excellent  one. 
Walter  Scott  has  said  that  a  kind  of  freemasonry 
exists  between  young  people  of  every  land.  There  is 
much  truth  in  the  remark. 

Our  youth  can  put  in  practice  the  fraternization  of 
which  we  have  spoken  in  the  very  heart  of  our  own 
country,  without  going  a  step  outside.  The  times  are 
changed,  indeed,  since  France  was  the  second  father- 
land  of  all  men  of  culture.  But  something  of  this  has 
always  lived  within  her.  It  is  common  enough  still  to 
find,  among  one's  comrades,  those  who  have  come 
from  near  and  far  to  study  or  complete  their  studies  in 
France.  People  can  say  to  them,  Don't  go  to  France ; 
they  come  all  the  same.  Our  youth  has  a  grand 
mission  to  fill  toward  these  strangers.  **  If  I  were  a 
student,  how  I  should  interest  myself  in  foreign  stu- 
dents! 1  would  pay  them  attentions  even  to  the 
point  of  coquetry.  I  would  do  the  honours  of  frank 
French  hospitality,  if  they  lived  by  themselves,  as 
they  generally  do,  1  would  make  excuses  to  visit  them 
and  make  them  like  me.  Then  I  would  introduce 
them  to  our  French  students.  I  would  make  them 
joyous,  by  contact  with  our  light-heartedness.  1  would 
talk  to  them  of  their  country  and  of  my  own,  of  the 
things  which  they  approve  and  do  not  approve  in 
France.  I  would  plead  our  cause  before  them,  and  I 
should  win."\ 

1  Ernest  Lavisse :  Etudes  et  EtudiatUs,  p,  287. 


SOLIDARITY:   INTERNATIONAL  ROLE  OF  YOUTH.    275 

We  cannot  insist  too  strongly  on  the  importance  of 
such  advice. 

#  « 

But  the  young  Frenchman  must  take  another  and  a 
great  step.  He  must  make  up  his  mind  to  study  for 
some  time  in  a  foreign  land,  in  order  to  know  and  ap- 
preciate what  is  going  on  outside  his  own.  I  acknowl- 
edge that,  at  the  outset,  this  is  very  hard.  Ice  must  be 
broken,  roads  must  be  laid  out  and  cleared;  and  a 
stock  of  courage  and  patience  laid  in.  Never  mind ;  it 
must  be  done.  The  Europe  of  the  Renaissance  was 
fairly  furrowed  in  every  direction  by  students,  who 
often  travelled  afoot  and  barefoot  to  save  their  shoes. 
A  journey  which  they  made  in  the  midst  of  difficulties 
and  privations  we  cannot  refuse  when  we  can  do  it  by 
rail.  French  students  should  enter  all  the  principal 
universities  of  Europe,  and  their  action  should  be 
reciprocated. 

We  expect  from  these  young  men  an  act  of  repara- 
tion and  international  justice.  Every  one  knows  that 
international  calumny,  practised  on  a  large  scale,  has 
been  the  scourge  of  our  times.  The  infernal  works  of 
hatred  and  falsehood  have  been  carried  on  in  time  of 
peace,  thanks  to  public  ignorance.  We  have  become 
unaccustomed  to  seeing  and  deciding  for  ourselves, 
leaving  to  the  press  the  work  of  instruction.  The  press 
has  instructed  us  in  such  fashion  that  we  no  longer 
know  whom  to  trust,  and  the  people  are  no  wiser  than 
ourselves.  The  country  which  has  been  most  wronged 
in  this  respect,  both  by  its  enemies  and  its  own  sons, 
alas !  is  France.    Time  is  needed  to  efface  the  traces  of 


276 


YOUTH. 


such  foul  acts ;  but  no  trouble  should  be  spared  to  this 
end.  There  can  be  no  better  times  in  store  for  Europe 
than  when  the  youth  of  its  schools  and  universities 
shall  have  little  by  little  turned  public  spirit  in  a  new 
direction.  It  is,  as  you  see,  like  creating  a  new  world ; 
but  how  powerful  are  the  motives  to  undertake  it 
with  enthusiasm  !  Never  did  nobler  task  await  willing 
workers. 


I 


BELIEF. 


277 


CHAPTER    Vn. 

BELIEF. 

Truth,  moral  and  social,  is  like  an  inscription 
on  a  mortuary  tablet  over  which  all  the  world 
walks  as  it  goes  about  its  affairs,  and  which 
from  day  to  day  becomes  more  effaced  until 
some  friendly  chisel  deepens  the  words  in  the 
worn  stone  so  that  all  can  see  and  read.  This 
chisel  is  in  the  hands  of  a  few  men  only,  who 
bend  so  obstinately  over  the  old  inscription  that 
they  risk  being  thrown  down  upon  the  marble 
and  trampled  under  the  feet  of  the  careless 
passers-by.  —  Vinet. 

Der  religiose  Glaube  ist 
einfach  durch  sein 
Vorhandensein  im  GemOth, 
der  im  Menschengeist 
selbst  gef  Uhrte  Thaterweis 
des  gOttlichen  Geistes. 

,  LiPSIUS. 

DELIEF!  Is  it  not  with  it  that  we  should  have 
^  begun  ?  Does  not  it  determine  our  whole  exist- 
ence? It  is  at  life's  opening  that  we  picture  it  to 
ourselves  most  easily,  with  its  eye  fixed  on  its  supreme 
aim.  Doubtless  this  way  of  looking  at  it  is,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent,  just.  Every  one  of  us  meets  at  our  entrance 
into  life,  under  some  form  or  other,  an  interpretation  of 
things  which  offers  itself  as  our  guide.  But  this  inter- 
pretation is  the  fruit  of  others'  experience,  and,  indeed. 


278 


YOUTH. 


the  result  of  their  life.  In  saying,  then,  that  we  do  not 
begin  with  faith,  but  advance  toward  it,  we  are  on  solid 
ground.  It  is  on  this  that  we  wish  to  stand,  as  much 
out  of  regard  for  our  times  as  out  of  regard  for  the 
youth  whom  we  are  addressing.  To  build  up  a  belief 
anew,  our  age  must  consider  how  belief  comes  into 
existence  ;  and  this,  too,  is  one  of  the  deepest  and  most 
serious  needs  of  youth. 

We  ordinarily  understand  by  belief,  adhesion  to  a 
body  of  doctrine  which  presents  itself  authoritatively. 
God,  at  a  certain  epoch,  revealed  the  truth  to  man  once 
for  all.    The  revelation  was  made  "  in  the  lump,"  and 
certain  men  and  certain  bodies  are  its  depositaries.    As 
representing  divine  truth,  they  claim  the  same  obedience 
as  God.    We  are  not  to  weigh,  examine,  or  discuss 
what  they  offer  us,  but  to  receive  it  on  our  knees,  and 
accept  it  in  silence  with  our  whole  being,  whatever  be 
our  repugnance  or  opposition.    God  has  spoken  ;  that 
should  be  enough.    All  the  old  dogmatic  beliefs  hold 
these  views.    Their  premise,  on  which  everything  else 
depends,  is  the  great  question  at  issue  between  them  and 
the  modem  spirit.    But  we  make  haste  to  add  that  the 
modern  spirit  is  here  in  accord  with  that  of  Christ  and 
the  gospel.    Christ  did  not  ask  obedience,  but  convic- 
tion ;  and  he  gives  to  those  who  listened  to  him,  as  a 
criterion  of  his  words :  *'  If  any  man  will  do  his  will, 
he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine  whether  it  be  of  God  or 
whether  I  speak  of  myself."    In  saying  this  he  indi- 
cates that  belief  is  bom  of  experience,  and  that  to  be 
in  the  best  possible  position  to  get  this  experience,  we 
must  try  to  be  men.    To  wish  to  do  the  will  of  Our 


BELIEF. 


279 


Father  signifies  really  to  examine  our  life,  that  we  may 
see  of  what  it  consists,  and  that  we  may  accomplish  the 
will  of  him  whose  offspring  it  is.     He  who  tries  to 
fulfil  his  destiny  as  a  man,  and  to  be  faithful  to  himself 
in  every  respect,  builds  within  him  the  firmest  founda- 
tion for  the  acquisition  of  human  verity  and  knowledge 
of  doctrines.    It  has  been  said  that  these  ideas  open  the 
door  to  individual  fantasies,  and  lack   reverence  for 
truth.    They  infer,  on  the  contrary,  the  greatest  respect 
for  man  and  for  divine  truth  which  can  be  ever  attained. 
Man's  liberty  and  his  nature  are  both  respected.    He 
is  not  to  decide  anything  through  compulsion  or  over- 
persuasion  ;  but  step  by  step,  as  a  child  learns  to  read, 
his  conscience  is  to  learn  to  spell  out  the  truth.    God 
himself  submits  himself  to  man's  judgment ;  he  offers 
himself ;  he  does  not  impose  himself,  he  is  willing  to 
be  accepted.     I  know  that  these  are  serious  things  to 
say,  and  that  in  saying  them  one  needs  the  support  of 
some  greater  authority  than  oneself,  and  I  am  rejoiced 
that  they  have  been  uttered  by  the  Son  of  Man.    Then, 
too,  if  man  is  respected,  God  is  respected  also.   To  ad- 
mit his  truth  we  need  not  close  our  eyes ;  we  can  open 
them  to  their  widest.     When  Christ,  feeling  himself 
filled  with  it,  announces  it  to  men,  he  says  to  them : 
Receive  it ;  it  is  holy,  it  is  grand.    The  first  comer  can- 
not grasp  it,  there  must  be  effort  and  pains.    Summon 
all  the  strength  within  you ;  appeal  to  every  means  of 
light,  to  every  source  of  help  ;  try  to  be  men  by  intel- 
ligent choice,  from  the  heart,  by  the  will ;  do  not  dwarf 
and  mutilate  yourselves  in  any  direction,  by  asceticism 
or  by  any  vice,  —  and  it  will  be  granted  you  to  hear  in 


280 


YOUTH. 


BELIEF. 


281 


my  words  not  the  weak  sound  of  a  voice  that  has  risen 
and  died  away,  but  the  very  echo  of  eternal  reaHties. 

This  being  said,  we  can  at  our  ease  lay  down  our 
fundamental  proposition,  which  is  this :  — 

The  whole  world  of  facts,  spiritual  and  material, 
including  history  and  its  traditions,  is  the  field  of 
experience,  and  experience  is  the  basis  of  belief. 

Belief  is  the  higher  region  of  life ;  it  is  the  whole  of 
life,  the  complete  synthesis  of  human  induction.  All 
our  experiences  and  those  of  the  past,  living  anew  in 
our  souls,  blend  themselves  together  and  constitute  that 
personal  revelation  which  life  has  made  us;  —  that  is 
belief.  Note  that  we  reach  it  by  hundreds  and  by 
thousands  of  roads,  often  very  different  from  one 
another ;  but  these  roads  have  this  in  common,  —  they 
are  routes  toward  the  Infinite.  Man,  and  all  Nature 
with  him,  is  in  process  of  evolution,  from  the  atom  and 
the  germ  toward  perfect  life.  Their  law  is  that  of 
growth.  And  when  man  realizes  that  this  is  the  under- 
lying principle  of  his  destiny,  no  phenomenon  appears 
to  him  isolated.  Everything  is  related,  connected,  and 
makes  part  of  a  whole.  Everything  extends  beyond 
and  above  itself.  Every  step  announces  the  one  that 
follows.  The  sense  which  takes  life  in  its  entirety, 
which  considers  its  origin  and  its  hereafter,  which 
regards  it  as  a  starting-point  and  a  means  to  an  end, 
which  includes,  in  a  word,  all  those  details  of  which 
our  life  is  made,  in  accordance  with  that  great  will 
which  underlies  all  things,  —  this  is  the  religious  sense. 
It  is  essential  to  lay  stress  upon  the  primordial  form 
which  the  religious  sense  assumes  when  it  begins  to  act, 


II 


and  before  it  has  as  yet  attained  that  lofty  conclusion, 
that  last,  that  sublime  flower,  which  we  call  belief. 
This  form  is  called  piety,  and  is  in  itself  an  exalted 
manifestation  of  reverence.     Piety  is  reverence  reach- 
ing out  to  the  world  beyond.    I  may  compare  it  to 
that  line  on  the  sea's  horizon  where  the  blue  of  the 
ocean  blends  with  the  blue  of  the  sky.    Nowhere  is 
there  a  closer  insight  into  things  human  and  divine  than 
in  piety.    It  recognizes  and  reveres  in  each  lesser  reality 
the  higher  reality.    Piety  is,  with  reverence,  the  most 
important  of  human  phenomena.    Its  value  to  our  age, 
and  especially  to  our  youth,  cannot  be  exaggerated. 
These  two  sentiments  intermingle  constantly  in  man's 
attitude  toward  everything.    They  give  the  tone  to  his 
moral  life,  and  mark  its  intensity.    He  who  lives  badly 
loses  reverence  and  loses  piety.     Impiety  is  a  complex 
crime ;  it  is  the  summing  up  of  all  the  evil  we  have 
committed  in  detail.     It  is  possible  for  man  to  lose  his 
belief  in  life;  yet  no  one  can  reproach  him  with  it 
if  he  retain  his  piety.     But  if  the  lack  of  belief  is  the 
result  of  impiety,  we  are  face  to  face  with  a  moral 
suicide. 

The  strangest  thing  to  be  seen  in  this  domain  is 
belief  without  piety,  —  belief  rigid,  supercilious,  un- 
sympathetic, devoid  of  that  flavour  of  humanity 
without  which  everything  is  worthless.  A  belief  which 
lacks  reverence  is  domineering  and  unkindly,  and  even 
mocks  at  another's  need  of  belief.  We  must  distrust 
it ;  it  is  but  a  vain  show.  The  tree  is  standing,  but  its 
roots  have  been  cut  through ;  look  at  it  closer,  —  it  is , 
dead.     It  would  be  better  to  have  piety  and  lack  belief. . 


r'  I 


29Z 


YOUTH. 


If  I  dwell  so  strongly  on  reverence  and  on  piety,  it  is 
for  a  purpose.  They  are  the  first  essentials  in  recon- 
structing a  living  faith.  For  it  is  indeed  a  reconstruc- 
tion which  is  in  question  to-day,  not  only  for  those  who 
have  broken  with  the  past,  but  also  for  those  who 
cannot  make  revered  traditions  accord  with  personal 
beliefs,  as  truly  worthy  of  respect  as  they.  Humanity 
has  reached  one  of  those  points  where,  if  it  would  con- 
tinue to  advance,  it  must  renew  itself  at  the  sources  of 
life  and  hope.  We  shall  do  this  the  better,  according  as 
we  are  penetrated  with  filial  piety  toward  that  great  reli- 
gious past  whose  symbols,  customs,  and  ideas  contained 
so  many  treasures,  and  as  we  approach,  on  the  other 
hand,  with  more  reverence  existing  life  and  its  realities. 
History,  then,  as  well  as  life,  will  show  us  under  differ- 
ent forms  the  same  humanity  always  looking  for  that 
which  will  explain  it  to  itself  and  quiet  its  unrest. 

There  has  been  accomplished  in  this  century,  swayed 
by  so  many  contentions,  a  modest  work,  —  a  work  for 
the  future,  if  there  ever  was  one,  but  a  work  of  which 
.  most  persons  are  entirely  ignorant.    It  has  consisted  in 
•going  back  everywhere  to  the  cradle  of  religious  tradi- 
'tions.     By  its  means  we  are  present  at  their  genesis, 
and  understand  them  better,  perhaps,  than  their  imme- 
diate contemporaries.    It  has  been  especially  active  in 
all  that  concerns  Christ  and  his  work.    And  the  deeper 
we  go  into  this  study,  the  more  evident  is  it  that  Christ 
is  unknown  not  only  to  the  world  at  large,  but  even 
to  the  churches  which  bear  his  name.    If  there  is  any- 
thing made  diflicult  of  access,  discoloured,  and  turned 
from  its  original  intention,  that  thing  is  certainly  the 


BELIEF. 


283 


old  gospel.     It  will  be  to  the  eternal  glory  of  historic 
theology,  that  it  has  made  known  to  the  conscience  of 
our  own  day  this  gospel  in  all  its  primitive  simplicity. 
In  default  of  this  key  we  were  forever  shut  off  from 
the  heart  and  the  thought  of  a  far-distant  epoch,  whose 
intellectual  formulas  and  whose  customs  had  become  a 
sealed  book.    But  now  the  thread  of  human  evolution 
is  made  one  again.    Freed  from  whatever  is  local  and 
transient,  and   from    subsequent   additions,   the  great 
fundamental  truths  of  the  gospel  appear  to  us  in  their 
real  import.     In  its  thought  as  in  its  practice,  in  its 
way  of  interpreting  the  world  as  in  its  way  of  direct- 
ing human  activity,  the  gospel  so  far  outsteps  the 
churches  which  are  built  upon  it  as  to  be  rather  a, 
gospel  of  the  future  than  of  the  past.     The  more 
one  fixes  one's  attention  on  the  subject,  the  less  can 
one  fail  to  perceive  a  great  affinity  between  this  for- 
gotten gospel  and  the  loftiest  aspirations  of  the  modern 
spirit.     We  are  so  constituted  as  to  understand  our- 
selves; and  this  for  a  multitude  of  reasons.     I  shall 
content  myself  with  noting  a  few  of  these. 

Our  epoch  has  broken  with  general  ideas,  especially  ' 
with  those  in  the  domain  of  metaphysics.  It  would  be 
very  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  for  it  to  assimilate  a 
religion,  even  though  it  were  the  purest  and  most  ele- 
vated, if  it  presented  itself  under  the  form  of  a  meta- 
physical doctrine.  The  reticence  of  Christ  as  to  all 
that  concerns  the  transcendental  world  is  extreme.  He 
brought  religion  down  from  heaven  to  earth,  and 
changed  it  from  a  consideration  of  cosmic  problems 
to  a  matter  of  the  human  conscience.     What  strikes 


284 


YOUTH. 


BELIEF. 


285 


us  above  all  in  him  is  this  human  character  which 
breathes  from  his  person  and  from  his  doctrine.    He  has 
shown  man  the  grandeur  of  his  lowly  mission,  —  that 
narrow  road  which  through  long  patience  and  unseen 
labours  leads  to  the  heights  of  the  divine.     At  the 
same  time  he  has  humanized  God.    How  true  is  Vinet's 
remark :  "  That  beautiful  utterance  of  a  pagan,  *  I  am 
a  man,  and  nothing  relating  to  man  lacks  interest  to 
me,'  the  gospel  has  put  in  our  Lord's  mouth."    This  is 
true,  not  only  because  Christ  preached  that  everlasting 
pity  which  suffers  from  our  griefs  and  that  reparation 
through  his  sacrifice  and  forgiveness  of  the  sin  which 
destroys  poor  humanity,  but  still  further,  because  he 
V  has  made  it  evident  that  for  man  the  purest  revelation 
of  God,  and  that  most  easily  understood,  is  man  him- 
self.   That  great  psychological  truth,  that  a  being  can 
grasp  with  his  intelligence  or  his  feelings  only  those 
realities  which  have  their  source  within  him,  shines 
forth  at  every  step  in  the  gospel.     It  constitutes  its 
humility  because  it  reaches  down  to  those  in  trouble ; 
but  it  constitutes  also  its  assurance  and  strength,  since 
through  these  very  troubles  we  rise,  step  by  step,  to  the 
source  of  life  to  hear  it  said :  You  are  akin  to  God. 
Jesus  has  done  more  than  to  declare  God,  he  has  made 
him  felt,  and  made  him,  in  a  way,  more  actual  than 
the  world  itself.    Through  his  holy  life  the  unknown 
and  hidden  God  speaks  with  the  tongue  of  man.    God 
is  here,  we  see  him,  we  feel  him,  his  spirit  enters  the 
hearts  that  love  one  another  and  awake  to  righteous- 
ness ;  there  is  a  halo  of  God  about  humanity.    It  is  by 
this  way  of  believing  alone  that  we  can  satisfy  that 


I . 


longing  for  the  divine,  that  thirst  for  everlasting  life, 
that  ardent  desire  to  put  our  lips  to  its  very  spring,  to 
take  nothing  on  the  word  of  another  or  by  proxy,  but 
to  see  and  to  touch,  to  enter  ourselves  into  the  holy  of 
holies  and  adore. 


# 

#    iff 


Another  reason  which  commends  the  gospel  to  us  is 
this :  We  cannot  expect  in  this  generation,  as  in  cer- 
tain great  epochs  of  synthesis,  a  revelation  which  will 
answer  all  our  questions  and  be  the  adequate  formula 
of  our  entire  thought.  Our  conception  of  the  heavens 
and  the  earth  has  entirely  changed,  and  worlds  cannot 
be  reconstructed  in  so  short  a  time.  To  be  content 
with  our  daily  bread  and  the  cup  of  cold  water  which 
revives  and  helps  us  march  onward, —this  is  our 
lot.  Christ  helps  us  wondrously  to  bear  this  lot.  He 
came  at  the  time  when  the  gods  were  dying,  when  their 
temples  were  being  rent,  when  in  the  mundane  majesty 
of  the  old  religions  —  the  Jewish  religion  as  well  as 
others  — the  restless  soul  found,  in  place  of  relief,  only 
a  burden  the  more.  He  restored  that  ancient  human 
tradition,  —  reaching  back  of  antiquated  customs  and 
decrepit  formalism,  of  sacerdotal  pride,  and  the  wiles  of 
Scribes,  — of  prophets  humble  before  God,  brotherly  to 
those  in  trouble,  bold  before  earthly  potentates,  and 
terrors  to  evil-doers.  He  said  to  all  those  who  were 
seeking  and  toiling :  "  The  one  thing  necessary  is  to 
believe  in  God  and  love  your  neighbour.  He  further 
declared  —  and  this  is  the  very  essence  of  righteousness 
—  that  the  soul  is  of  more  value  than  the  world.  He 
sought  out  the  weak,  those  who  were  oppressed  and 


286 


YOUTH. 


forgotten,  the  common  people,  children,  grand  labours 
and  deep  sufferings,  simplicity  and  sacrifice.     Speak- 
ing only  when  necessary,  and  then  in  the  simplest  way, 
he  threw  himself  wholly  into  action,  and  enjoined  faith- 
fulness in  little  things;  and  in  this  respect  he  is  peculiarly 
applicable  to  our  times.    Set  aside  all  explanatory  com- 
mentaries, all  the  monopolies  of  his  person  and  his 
doctrine,  stand  before  that  cross  of  Calvary  and  you 
will  see  him  clearly.     From  the  depths  of  your  con- 
sciousness, through  the  holy  griefs  of  the  just  of  all 
ages,  through  that  sentiment  of  righteousness  so  alive 
in  the  modern  spirit,  you  will  hear  something  say  to 
you,  —  truth  for  man  is  this,  to  trust  and  give  of  one- 
self.    The  salvation  of  the  world  comes  from  those 
who  have  practised  this  law  till  death. 


# 


Let  no  one  fancy  that  the  simplicity  of  faith  which 
can  be  expressed  in  few  words  is  poverty  of  faith.  All 
great  epochs  of  belief  have  been  sparing  of  words : 
so  much  the  more  were  they  rich  in  what  no  words  can 
describe,  —-  in  love,  in  power,  in  joy.  Systems  of  the- 
ology come  at  a  later  date,  when  the  spirit  of  these  has 
taken  flight.  Then  systems  increase  and  multiply,  and 
pile  up  mighty  tomes.  In  the  outset  it  is  otherwise, 
and  I  much  prefer  it  then.  I  may  add  that  then,  too, 
it  is  most  adapted  to  youth. 

There  is  in  this  divine  folly  of  the  gospel,  with  its 
trust,  austerity,  simplicity,  and  love,  something  which 
captivates  on  the  instant  all  young  hearts.  Certain  re- 
ligions are  excellent  as  a  shelter  for  old  egoisms,  senil- 


BELIEF. 


287 


ities,  puerilities,  for  preserving  weak  hearts  from  the 
sounds  of  the  world,  or  even  for  putting  sweetly  to 
sleep  our  conscience  and  our  intellect.  The  gospel  is 
made,  above  everything,  for  life  and  for  the  living.  It 
makes  us  act,  it  places  us  in  the  thick  of  the  fray,  it 
makes  us  go  forward  with  our  ships  burned  behind  us. 
No  looking  backward !  It  is  energetic,  virile,  joyous ! 
It  rings  out  and  rouses  us  like  the  clarion  of  battle. 

There  is  yet  one  point  of  considerable  importance 
which  should  fix  the  attention  of  all  serious  thinkers. 
The  gospel  is  so  human  that  even  those  who  do  not 
know  it,  or  reject  parts  of  it,  cannot  help  being  in  accord 
with  it  when  they  wish  to  lead  an  upright  life.  It  is 
very  difficult  to  respect  man's  intelligence,  conscience, 
and  rights  without  coming  —  I  do  not  say  to  believe  in 
the  Father,  in  eternal  justice,  and  everlasting  life,  but 
to  act  as  if  one  did  believe  in  them.  For  he  who 
has  reached  this  point  has  already  raised  in  his  heart 
and  in  his  activity  an  altar  to  the  unknown  God. 
Jesus  would  say  to  him :  Thou  art  not  far  from  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  In  a  recent  study  on  Alexander 
Vinet,  one  of  our  contemporary  historians  says :  **  This 
humanity,  this  universality  of  doctrine  and  spirit  of 
Vinet,  assures  him  a  cordial  reception,  and  a  serious 
influence,  even  among  those  who  do  not  believe  in 
Christian  doctrines,  but  who  do  believe  in  conscience 
and  the  existence  of  those  invisible  realities  which 
conscience  can  perceive  and  reveal."  ^  Applied  to  the 
gospel  itself,  such  a  remark  would  be  more  just  still. 


«  # 


*  Gabriel  Monod:  Alexandre  l^inet,  Revue  cbre'tienne,  mars,  1891 


I. 


288 


YOUTH. 


I  wish,  in  speaking  of  belief  and  of  its  reconstruc- 
tion, to  insist  on  independence.  Respect  yourselves, 
young  sirs,  you  who  are  seeking  and  toiling  in  the 
domain  of  ideas.  Love  your  spiritual  poverty.  Have 
no  fear  of  beginning  with  little  and  of  augmenting  it 
slowly  and  surely.  This  is  the  incontestable  law  of 
spiritual  conquest.  Do  not  listen  to  speculators  who 
speak  to  you  of  riches  suddenly  acquired.  They  are 
the  worst  tempters.  Guard  the  virginity  of  the  spirit 
even  more  than  that  of  the  body.  Belief  is  the  sister 
of  Liberty ;  caged,  she  always  dies.  Never  become 
slaves  that  you  may  serve  the  better.  You  will  thus 
lose  all  that  you  possess.  But  in  regaining  it  in  this 
way  and  in  practising  spiritual  independence,  in  accord- 
ing to  others  what  you  demand  for  yourselves,  remem- 
ber that  man  is  a  social  being.  This  is  true  in  religion 
as  in  other  things. 

Belief,  certainly,  is  personal;  but  it  has  this  in 
common  with  love,  —  that  its  bond  is  more  active  the 
less  there  is  demanded  of  it.  It  is  necessary  to  have 
religious  fraternization,  and  to  cultivate  together  our 
hopes  and  beliefs,  —  in  short,  to  worship  together. 
The  religious  form  of  the  future,  besides,  will  approach 
that  of  primitive  Christianity;  it  will  be  a  living 
temple  of  brothers  united  by  the  same  love.  Further, 
we  must  respect  what  is  best  in  its  hereditary  and 
traditional  solidarity,  that  we  may  not  lose  the  fruits 
of  history.  When  one  is  born  among  religious  sur- 
roundings, it  is  one's  duty  to  be  very  thankful  for  it. 
To  love  one's  church  is  as  good  as  to  love  one's 
family   and  one's  country.     But    here  comes  in  a 


BELIEF. 


289 


^ 


danger,  —  that  of  religious  party  spirit,  the  spirit  of 
exclusion.  Young  believer,  shun  it  as  you  would 
the  pestilence.  It  would  be  better  to  keep  to  your- 
self than  to  cultivate  with  others  the  spirit  of  exclu- 
sion and  spiritual  pride.  As  in  everything  else,  our 
times  demand  in  the  domain  of  belief  a  grand  breadth. 
The  duty  of  the  present  moment  is  to  fraternize ;  and 
individual  churches,  whatever  may  be  their  reason  for 
existence,  are  useless  except  as  they  prepare  for  the 
church  universal.  There  are  times  in  history  when  it 
is  necessary  for  a  man  to  devote  himself  to  some 
special  and  clearly  defined  cause,  — when,  in  a  word,  a 
breech  is  to  be  made,  and  it  behooves  us  to  fall  into 
line.  Our  pressing  duty  to-day  is  to  overstep  the  walls 
of  separation,  and  to  grasp  hands  above  their  dividing 
lines.  To  refind  humanity,  to  become  again  men,  — 
if  this  be  the  watchword  in  the  field  of  education,  of 
politics,  of  society,  how  much  more  ought  we  to  re- 
member it  in  the  field  of  religion,  the  largest  of  them 
all,  and  where  narrow-mindedness  is  parcelling  out  and 
cramping  everything  in  such  lamentable  fashion.  May 
youth  understand  this!  Honour  to  every  sincere  at- 
tachment which  unites  us  to  the  religious  family  from 
which  we  sprung !  For  the  time  has  come  again  when 
Moriah  and  despised  Gerizim  are  of  equal  worth,  and 
when  it  behooves  those  who  inhabit  them  to  seize  the 
pilgrim  staff  and  mount  to  less  limited  horizons.  There 
they  will  hear  things  which  will  make  them  exclaim 
with  the  old  pilgrims  at  the  first  Pentecost :  "  Behold 
we  come  out  of  every  nation  under  heaven,  and  we 
hear  every  man  in  our  own  tongue  wherein  we  were 

19 


290 


YOUTH. 


BELIEF. 


291 


born,"  —  and  overcome  with  joy  at  discovering  brothers 
when  they  believed  themselves  wide  apart,  they  will  ex- 
perience feelings  which  this  intolerant  and  quarrelsome 
world  does  not  know.  Through  humanity  pure  and 
simple,  they  will  find  that  contact  with  eternal  realities 
which  lifts  man  from  the  dust ;  and  the  same  prayer 
will  rise  from  all  hearts:  Our  Father  who  art  in 
heaven. 

This  brings  us  to  our  culminating  point.  Through 
fraternity  we  come  to  know  the  Father.  Through 
faithfulness  we  come  from  things  transitory  to  the 
perception  of  things  eternal.  This  is  the  end  of  life. 
Here  meet  all  the  roads  we  have  travelled  ;  here  the 
ideal  finds  its  crown;  here  is  supreme  unity.  It  is  for 
this  that  the  flowers  are  fair,  that  the  stars  shine,  that 
the  hidden  enigma  of  love  is  born  anew  every  spring. 
It  is  for  this  that  man  suffers,  works,  and  weeps. 
Happy  is  he  if  to  him  it  is  given  to  draw  from  all  ex- 
istence, like  a  pure  fragrance,  that  filial  credo  which  is 
to  the  instinctive  love  of  life  what  a  clouded  impression 
is  to  a  clearly  defined  sentiment ;  which  is  to  the  first 
smile  of  a  child  what  the  declaration  of  a  young  man 
is,  when  in  an  outburst  of  tenderness  he  cries :  My 
mother ! 


* 

*  * 


This  is  the  road  in  which  we  ask  you  to  march,  ye 
chosen  flower  of  our  youth.  From  the  midst  of  your 
labours,  your  griefs,  the  struggles  of  your  intelligence 
with  darkness  and  of  your  will  with  evil,  lift  your  heart 
to  the  verities,  so  old  and  so  new,  so  familiar  and  so 
forgotten.    Let  the  wind  of  the  Holy  Spirit  blow  upon 


your  heads.  Know  its  mystery,  its  terror,  and  its 
tenderness,  and  you  will  be  able  on  your  way,  which  is 
that  too  of  humanity,  to  see  arise  the  dawn  you  wait 
for.  Thus  you  will  have  overcome  the  evil  you  re- 
ceived with  the  heritage  of  your  ancestors.  You  will 
multiply  a  hundred-fold  the  good  they  have  done.  In 
attacking,  in  this  spirit,  their  vast  labours  in  science,  the 
marvellous  conquests  they  left  behind  them,  what  a 
work  you  will  be  able  to  accomplish !  May  you  thus 
become,  in  this  age  of  subdivision,  weariness,  and  wear 
and  tear,  that  force  of  which  our  Michelet  somewhere 
speaks,  when  he  says  that  some  day  it  will  sweep  away 
the  old  world  with  a  breath  from  God ! 


THE  END. 


' 


\ 


, 


/ 


W\Z 


^^ml.o  L 


COLUMBIA  UNIVERSITY 


